THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 


A  hasty  examination  of  the  sailing  list  showed  her  the  astonishing 
truth.     Richard  was  not  on  board. 


THE 

BLUE   LIGHTS 

BY 

ARNOLD   FREDERICKS 

AUTHOR  OF 
THE  IVORY  SNUFP  BOX,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

WILL  GREFfi 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,   1915,  BY 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 


2135585 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  big,  mud-spattered  touring  car,  which 
for  the  past  hour  had  been  plowing  its 
way  steadily  northward  from  the  city  of 
Washington,  hesitated  for  a  moment  before  the 
gateway  which  marked  the  end  of  the  well  kept 
drive,  then  swept  on  to  the  house. 

A  man,  stoutly  built,  keen  of  eye,  showing  haste 
in  his  every  movement,  sprang  from  the  machine 
and  ascended  the  veranda  steps. 

"Does  Richard  Duvall  live  here?"  he  inquired, 
curtly,  of  the  smiling  old  colored  woman  who 
came  to  the  door. 

"  'Deed  he  do,  suh.  Does  you  want  to  see 
him?" 

"Yes.  At  once,  please.  Tell  him  it  is  most 
important.  My  name  is  Hodgman." 

[The  servant  eyed  him  with  cool  disfavor.     "Set 

3 


&  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS' 

down,  suh,"  she  remarked  stiffly.  "I'll  tell  him 
you  is  here." 

The  caller  watched  her,  as  she  disappeared 
into  the  house,  then  cast  himself  impatiently  into 
a  chair  and  lit  a  cigar. 

He  paid  no  attention  to  the  attempts  of  two 
clumsy  collie  puppies  to  attract  his  favorable 
notice,  but  contented  himself  with  making  a  quick 
survey  of  the  wide  comfortable  veranda,  with  its 
big  roomy  chairs,  the  wicker  table,  bearing  a 
great  jar  of  red  peonies,  the  smooth  green  lawns, 
swept  by  the  late  afternoon  sun. 

"Fine  old  place,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"Wonder  if  I  can  persuade  him  to  go?" 

As  the  car  which  had  brought  Mr.  Hodgman 
on  his  hasty  trip  from  Washington  dashed  up  to 
the  front  of  the  house,  Grace  Duvall,  looking 
very  charming  in  a  blue  linen  dress,  was  just  ap 
proaching  it  from  the  rear. 

She  held  a  pair  of  shears  in  her  hand,  and  her 
apron  was  filled  to  overflowing  with  hundred-leaf 
roses.  "Dick — oh,  Dick!"  she  called,  as  she  came 
down  the  long  avenue  of  syringas  and  lilacs  which 
led  to  the  house.  "The  sweet  peas  are  nearly 
ready  to  bloom." 

Richard  Duvall,  looking  as  simply  pastoral  as 
though  he  had  never  tracked  an  international 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  5 

crook  to  cover,  raised  his  head  from  the  flower 
bed,  in  which  he  had  been  carefully  setting  out 
circle  after  circle  of  geranium  plants. 

"Are  they?"  he  laughed.  "That's  good.  Now 
all  we  need  is  a  few  good  hot  days."  He  gath 
ered  up  his  trowel  and  rake,  and  started  toward 
the  barn. 

Grace  put  her  arm  through  her  husband's  and 
together  they  strolled  across  the  springy  green 
turf,  their  faces  smiling  and  happy.  The  honey 
moon  showed  no  signs  of  waning. 

This  lovely  old  country  place,  in  southern 
Maryland,  had  been  one  of  Richard  Duvall's 
dreams  for  many  years,  and  after  his  marriage 
to  Grace  Ellicott,  in  Paris,  it  had  become  hers, 
as  well.  It  was  but  a  short  time  after  their  return 
to  America  that  they  decided  to  make  it  a  reality. 

Grace  had  encouraged  her  husband  In  the  plan 
of  giving  up,  for  a  time  at  least,  his  warfare 
against  crime,  his  pursuit  of  criminals  of  the 
higher  and  more  dangerous  type,  and  had  per 
suaded  him  to  buy  the  farm  which  had  once  be 
longed  to  his  mother's  people,  and  settle  down  to 
the  life  of  a  country  gentleman. 

His  office  was  still  maintained,  under  the  able 
direction  of  one  of  his  assistants,  but  Duvall  gave 
little  or  no  attention  to  its  affairs.  He  was  glad 


6  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

to  withdraw,  for  the  first  time  in  over  nine  years, 
from  active  work,  and  devote  his  energies  to  early 
potatoes,  prize  dogs,  hunters,  and  geranium  plants 
— and,  above  all,  to  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  his 
honeymoon,  and  the  making  of  Grace  the  happiest 
woman  in  the  world. 

She,  on  her  part,  found  in  their  present  situa 
tion  all  the  joys  of  existence  for  which  she  had 
longed.  With  little  or  no  liking  for  the  monoto 
nous  round  of  society  and  its  duties,  and  a  pas 
sionate  love  of  nature,  she  found  in  the  many 
and  complex  duties  of  managing  her  part  of  their 
extensive  estate  a  far  greater  happiness  than  any 
which  city  life  could  have  offered  her. 

The  considerable  fortune  which  her  husband's 
clever  work  while  in  Paris  had  restored  to  her, 
had  been  safely  invested  in  well  paying  securities, 
and  she  found  her  greatest  joy  in  utilizing  at 
least  a  part  of  her  income  in  beautifying  their  new 
home. 

Richard  had  steadily  refused  to  make  any  use 
of  the  money.  It  was  a  matter  of  pride  with  him, 
that  his  own  savings  had  enabled  him  to  purchase 
the  property;  but  when  Grace  proposed  to  build 
an  addition  to  the  house,  to  provide  him  with  a 
more  comfortable  library  and  work  room,  or 
insisted  upon  having  the  roads  throughout  the 


place  elaborately  macadamized,  he  was  obliged 
to  submit  to  her  wishes.  In  this  way,  they  planned 
and  built  for  the  future,  together. 

The  farm  was  a  large  one,  comprising  some 
two  hundred  acres,  and  the  old  stone  house  sur 
rounded  by  wrhite  oaks  and  tulip  poplars  had  once 
been  a  show  place,  before  the  declining  fortunes 
of  its  former  owners  had  caused  it  to  fall  into  a 
state  of  mellow  and  time-honored  decay.  Now 
all  was  changed.  Grace,  with  the  able  assistance 
of  old  Uncle  Abe  Turner,  a  relic  of  ante  bellum 
times,  spent  hours  daily  in  bringing  order  out  of 
the  chaos  of  tangled  myrtle  and  ivy,  overgrown 
box  and  hedge,  thickets  cf  syringa  and  lilac  bushes 
and  weed-grown  lawns. 

It  was  a  gigantic  task,  yet  a  joyous  one — as  it 
ever  is,  to  those  who  came  to  it  with  the  love  of 
nature  in  their  hearts.  To  Grace,  the  plants  and 
shrubs,  the  great  strong  oaks,  the  towering  pop 
lars,  each  seemed  to  have  a  distinct  personality. 
Under  her  energetic  hand,  the  place  once  more 
took  on  the  aspect  of  well  kept  and  orderly  beauty 
which  was  such  a  contrast  to  its  former  down-at- 
the-heels  appearance.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
growing  things  realized  the  personal  interest  she 
took  in  them,  and  responded  as  they  never  re 
spond  to  the  ignorant  or  unsympathetic. 


8  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Richard  was  concerned  with  his  fields  of  timo 
thy  and  clover,  his  early  corn,  his  berries  and  fruit 
trees,  to  say  nothing  of  his  collies,  his  prize  cows 
and  Kentucky  horses.  In  such  a  life,  time  never 
hangs  heavy — he  was  busy  studying,  planning, 
working,  from  morning  to  night,  and  his  active 
mind  soon  convinced  his  capable  overseer  and  the 
farm  hands  as  well  that,  although  Richard  Duvall 
was  by  no  means  a  professional  farmer,  he  could 
still  show  them  a  thing  or  two  when  it  came  to 
the  rotation  of  crops,  the  spraying  of  fruit  trees, 
or  the  proper  treatment  of  worn  out  soils.  These 
were  aspects  of  farming  life  which  the  hide-bound 
conservatism  of  the  local  farmers  caused  them  to 
jeer  at,  as  newfangled  notions  gotten  from  books. 
Later  when  they  saw  the  man  who  farmed  with 
his  head  as  well  as  his  hands  gather  in  two  bushels 
where  they  had  barely  been  able  to  secure  one. 
they  began  to  sit  up  and  take  notice. 

"I  got  the  new  hedges  all  set  out  today,"  Grace 
went  on,  as  she  patted  her  husband's  rather  grimy 
hand.  "They  will  be  charming,  against  the  gray 
stone  of  the  wall.  But  we  must  have  new  gate 
posts.  The  old  ones  are  likely  to  tumble  into  the 
road  at  any  moment." 

"I'll  have  Martin  come  out  tomorrow  and  look 
them  over.  There's  plenty  of  stone — down  in  the 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  9 

lower  pasture.  Why  not  carry  the  wall  right 
along  the  whole  front  of  the  property?  It  ought 
not  to  cost  a  great  deal." 

"We  will.  And  I'm  going  to  have  a  new  spring 
house  built,  too.  The  old  one  is  falling  to 
pieces."  She  looked  up  at  her  husband  as  he  de 
posited  the  rake  in  the  tool  room  and  they  started 
up  the  shaded  v/alk  toward  the  house.  "Aren't 
you  glad,  Dick,  that  we're  alive?" 

He  pressed  her  arm.  "Well — I  should  say 
so,  little  girl!  Why  do  you  ask  me  that?" 

"Oh — you  know  what  your  friends  all  said — 
that  a  man  might  as  well  be  dead,  as  buried  out 
here  in  the  country.  I  think  they  are  the  ones 
who  are  not  alive — cooped  up  in  the  city.  Don't 
you?" 

Richard  nodded.  He  was  thinking  for  the 
moment  of  his  former  active  life — when  some 
battle  of  wits  with  a  noted  crook  had  kept  him 
sleepless  for  nights.  "It's — rather  different,"  he 
laughed.  "Isn't  it?" 

"Yes — and  much  better.  Don't  you  think  so, 
dear?  You  wouldn't  want  to  go  back  to  it — 
would  you?" 

"Not  for  anything  in  the  world,"  he  assured 
her,  as  he  swept  the  newly  seeded  lawns  with  a 
contented  glance.  "I  liked  the  other  life,  of  course 


10  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

— the  excitement,  the  danger  of  it;  but  this  is 
better — much  better.  Here,  Don!"  he  called  to 
a  graceful  collie  which  was  barking  vociferously  at 
some  distant  vehicle  in  the  road.  "Come  here 
and  be  quiet."  He  turned  with  Grace  to  the  great 
vine-covered  side  porch  and  sank  contentedly  into 
a  rocking  chair.  "Well,  little  girl — it's  been  a 
busy  day,  and  I'm  tired.  We  got  the  early  rye 
all  cut  on  the  lower  field  today.  Guess  we'll  put 
in  late  potatoes,  after  it's  plowed.  Here,  Don — 
come  back  here!  What's  the  matter  with  you?" 
He  rose  and  whistled  to  the  dog,  which  was  bound 
ing  across  the  lawn  in  the  direction  of  the  road. 
"Come  back,  I  say!" 

"It's  someone  coming  in,"  said  Grace,  uneasily. 
"In  a  machine.  I  wonder  who  it  can  be?" 

"Possibly  Hudson,  the  veterinary.  He  was 
coming  today,  to  look  at  that  heifer." 

"He  hasn't  a  machine  like  that.  This  is  a  big 
touring  car."  She  turned  to  her  husband. 
"Hadn't  you  better  go  in  and  fix  up  a  bit,  Dick? 
It  may  be  company." 

Duvall  laughed.  "If  it  is,'  they'll  have  to  take 
me  as  I  am,"  he  said;  then  again  called  to  the  dog. 

A  moment  later  the  servant,  who  had  inter 
viewed  the  caller  at  the  front  door,  came  out  to 
the  side  porch.  "Gentleman  to  see  you,  Mr.  Du- 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  11 

vail,"  she  said.  ''Seems  to  be  in  a  powerful 
hurry,  too." 

"All  right,  Aunt  Lucy,"  said  Duvall  as  he  made 
his  way  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

"Is  this  Richard  Duvall?"  the  visitor  asked, 
in  a  quick,  almost  peremptory  tone,  as  the  detec 
tive  joined  him. 

"Yes.  That  is  my  name.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

The  newcomer  rose  nervously  from  his  chair 
and  began  chewing  upon  his  half-smoked  cigar. 
"Had  the  devil  of  a  time  to  find  you,  Mr.  Du 
vall." 

"You  came  out  from  Washington,  I  suppose," 
remarked  the  detective,  wondering  what  his  vis 
itor  could  want  writh  him. 

"Yes.  Got  your  address  from  Hicks,  of  the 
Treasury  Department.  He  said  you  were  about 
twelve  miles  out.  I  seem  to  have  come  about 
twenty." 

"Perhaps  you  went  around  by  way  of  Laurel. 
It's  much  further,  that  way.  What  can  I  do 
for  you,  Mr.  "  He  paused  interro 
gatively. 

The  man  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  "My 
name's  Hodgman — Thomas  Hodgman — of  New 
York.  I  represent  John  Stapleton." 


12  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"John  Stapieton,  the  banker?"  asked  Duvall, 
surprised. 

"Yes.  You  know  him,  don't  you?" 
"Yes.  Quite  well.  I  handled  a  case  for  him 
once — some  years  ago.  Why?"  Duvall's  face 
became  grave.  He  began  to  realize  that  the  in 
terview  was  likely  to  become  suddenly  important. 
John  Stapieton,  the  multi-millionaire  banker,  was 
not  in  the  habit  of  sending  messengers  to  any 
one,  without  good  reason. 

"So  he  said,"  went  on  Mr.  Hodgman,  resuming 
his  chair.     "That's  why  I'm  here.     He  wants  you 
to  take  another — " 
"Another?" 

"Yes.    Another  case.    Quick." 
"It's  quite  out  of  the  question." 
"Nonsense!     This  is  important.     Money's  no 
object;  name  your  own  terms." 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  terms,  Mr.  Hodgman. 
I  have  withdrawn,  for  the  time  being  at  least, 
from  active  professional  work." 

"I  know."  The  visitor  flicked  the  ashes  im 
patiently  from  his  cigar  and  sought  nervously  in 
his  pockets  for  a  match.  "That's  what  they  told 
me  at  your  office,  in  New  York.  Said  you  were 
on  your  honeymoon,  and  didn't  want  to  be  both 
ered." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  13 

"That's  true.    I  don't." 

"I  told  Mr.  Stapleton  that.  He  sent  me  to  see 
you ;  said  you  might  change  your  mind,  when  you 
heard  about  the  case." 

"It  is  quite  impossible.  I  do  not  care  to  take 
up  any  detective  work  at  present." 

Mr.  Hodgman  fidgeted  nervously  in  his  chair. 
"You  must  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say,  Mr. 
Duvall,  at  any  rate.  Mr.  Stapleton  would  not 
hear  to  my  returning,  after  seeing  you,  with 
out  having  explained  to  you  the  nature  of  the 
case." 

Duvall  leaned  back,  and  began  to  fondle  the 
long  moist  nose  of  the  collie  which  sat  beside  his 
chair.  "If  you  insist,  Mr.  Hodgman,  I  will  listen, 
of  course;  but  I  assure  you  it  will  be  quite  use 
less." 

"I  hope  not.  The  case  is  most  distressing. 
Mr.  Stapleton's  only  child  has  been  kidnapped!" 

"Kidnapped!"  Duvall  sat  up  with  a  start, 
every  line  of  his  face  tense  with  professional  in 
terest.  "When?  Where?" 

"In  Paris.  The  cablegram  arrived  this  morn 
ing.  I  don't  know  the  details.  Mrs.  Stapleton 
has  been  spending  the  winter  abroad.  Mr.  Staple- 
ton  was  to  join  her  this  month.  She  is  living  at 
their  house  in  the  Avenue  Kleber,  Paris.  The 


14  THE  ;  BLUE   LIGHTS 

child  was  out  walking  with  a  nurse.     It  has  been 
stolen.     That's  all  I  know." 
"When  did  it  happen?" 

"Yesterday  morning.  Mrs.  Stapleton  did  not 
cable  at  first,  believing  that  the  boy  would  be 
found  during  the  course  of  the  day.  Naturally 
she  did  not  wish  to  alarm  her  husband  needlessly, 
and  the  Prefect  of  Police,  it  seems,  had  assured 
her  that  the  child  would  undoubtedly  be  recov 
ered  before  night.  It  wasn't.  This  morning  Mr. 
Stapleton  got  a  long  cablegram  from  his  wife, 
telling  him  of  the  boy's  disappearance.  He's  half 
crazy  over  the  thing." 

"What  is  he  going  to  do?" 
"I  don't  know.  He  sent  me  to  see  you  at  once. 
I'm  his  secretary,  you  know.  When  I  couldn't 
find  you  in  New  York,  he  told  me  to  come  here. 
I  arrived  in  Washington  an  hour  ago,  and  came 
right  out.  Mr.  Stapleton  said  if  any  man  on 
earth  could  find  his  boy  for  him,  you  could." 

"I  suppose  the  thing  is  a  matter  of  blackmail — 
ransom — " 

"Very  likely.  They  will  probably  demand  a 
huge  sum.  No  requests  have  been  made,  as  yet, 
so  far  as  I  know.  These  fellows  usually  wait  a 
week  or  two,  before  showing  their  hand,  to  give 
the  unfortunate  parents  a  chance  to  worry  them- 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  15 

selves  half  to  death.  I  suppose  they  figure  that 
then  they'll  be  more  likely  to  come  across  with 
the  money." 

"Yes.  That's  the  scheme.  A  rotten  business, 
too.  Hanging  is  too  good  for  such  wretches  I" 

"That's  what  I  say.  Of  course  you  can  under 
stand  how  Mr.  Stapleton  feels." 

"Of  course.     He  will  sail  at  once,  I  suppose." 

"That's  the  worst  of  it.  He  can't  go  till  Sat 
urday.  Tomorrow's  Thursday — that's  three  days 
off.  There's  a  deal  on  here  involving  millions — 
something  he's  been  working  to  put  through  for 
months.  Of  course  he  doesn't  consider  anything 
like  that,  when  it  comes  to  his  child;  but  he's 
got  to  think  of  his  associates — men  who  have 
intrusted  their  money  to  him.  He  can't  possibly 
sail  before  Saturday.  He  wants  you  to  go  ahead 
of  him.  There's  a  fast  boat  leaving  in  the  morn 
ing.  You  could  take  that.  We  can  have  a  con 
ference  tonight.  It  will  mean  mighty  quick  work, 
though."  He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "After  six 
now.  There's  no  train  till  midnight — the  sleeper. 
But  Mr.  Stapleton  told  me  to  charter  a  special. 
We  can  be  in  New  York  by  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  if  we  start  right  now."  He  looked  at 
Duvall  in  eager  expectancy. 

The  latter  frowned,  his  gaze  wandering  off  to 


16  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

the  distant  fields,  where  the  newly  plowed  earth 
reminded  him  of  his  plans  for  the  morrow.  Yet 
here  was  a  man,  a  friend,  who  had  helped  him 
much,  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  career,  begging 
him  to  come  to  his  assistance  in  a  matter  almost 
of  life  or  death.  It  was  a  difficult  decision  that 
he  was  called  upon  to  make.  The  thought  of 
leaving  Grace  hurt  him  deeply;  yet  she  would  pre 
fer  to  stay  behind,  in  case  he  should  go,  to  look 
after  the  affairs  of  the  place.  With  the  assistance 
of  the  overseer  and  the  hands,  he  knew  that  she 
could  manage  everything  during  a  brief  absence 
on  his  part — it  seemed  unlikely  that  the  matter 
would  require  more  than  three  or  four  weeks,  at 
the  outside. 

Mr.  Hodgman  broke  in  upon  his  thoughts. 
"You'll  go,  Mr.  Duvall?  Mr.  Stapleton  is  de 
pending  on  you.  He  has  the  utmost  faith  in  your 
abilities.  He  knows  your  familiarity  with  Paris 
— the  work  you  have  done  there,  in  the  past.  He 
believes  that,  by  intrusting  the  matter  to  a  fellow 
countryman,  he  will  get  his  boy  back  again.  He 
hasn't  much  faith  in  foreign  detectives.  He's  set 
his  heart  on  having  you  start  for  Paris  at  once. 
I  can't  go  back  and  tell  him  that  you  have  re 
fused."  Mr.  Hodgman  spoke  in  a  loud  and 
earnest  voice,  due  to  his  very  evident  excitement. 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  17 

Neither  he  nor  Duvall  noticed  that  Grace  had 
approached  them,  and  was  standing  in  the  open 
doorway  of  the  house. 

Before  the  detective  had  an  opportunity  to 
reply,  Grace  spoke.  "What  is  it,  Richard?"  she 
inquired,  quietly. 

Duvall  rose,  presented  Mr.  Hodgman  to  his 
wife,  and  bade  her  sit  down.  Then,  in  a  few 
words,  he  acquainted  her  with  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  the  latter's  visit. 

"Think  of  that  poor  mother,  alone  there  in 
Paris,"  Hodgman  supplemented.  "Think  of  her 
suffering,  her  anxiety.  I  realize  how  much  we 
are  asking,  to  take  Mr.  Duvall  away  from  you, 
especially  at  this  time;  but,  it  is  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  only  child — a  boy  of  six.  You  can  under 
stand  how  he  must  feel." 

Grace  nodded.  "Yes,  I  can  understand,"  she 
said,  slowly,  then  turned  to  her  husband. 

"What  do  you  think,  dear?"  he  asked  her. 

"I  think,  Richard,  that  you  had  better  go." 

Mr.  Hodgman  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  coming 
over  to  Grace,  took  her  hand.  He  knew  that  his 
battle  was  won.  "I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Duvall," 
he  said,  "on  Mr.  Stapleton's  account,  as  well  as 
on  my  own.  He  will  appreciate  deeply  what  you 
have  done,  the  sacrifice  you  are  making,  and  he 


18  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

will  not  forget  it."  He  looked  again  at  his  watch 
nervously,  the  anxiety  he  felt  clearly  evident  in 
his  every  movement.  "We  had  best  start  at  once, 
Mr.  Duvall." 

Duvall  rose.  "I  will  join  you  in  a  short  while, 
Mr.  Hodgman.  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  to 
my  wife."  He  took  Grace's  arm  and  drew  her 
within  the  house,  leaving  Mr.  Hodgman  pacing 
nervously  up  and  down  the  veranda. 

The  conference  between  Grace  and  her  hus 
band  was  short.  Each  realized  the  distress  which 
tore  at  the  other's  heart,  as  well  as  the  dangers 
he  would  in  all  probability  be  called  upon  to  face; 
yet  they  met  the  situation  calmly.  "You  will  not 
be  gone  long,"  she  told  him.  "I  can  manage  very 
well" 

"I  know  you  can,  dear,"  he  said,  pressing  her 
to  him.  "I'm  not  worried  about  the  place.  You 
can  run  that  as  well  as  I  can.  It's  you,  I'm 
worried  about — leaving  you" — 

"I'll  be  all  right,"  she  assured  him,  in  spite  of 
her  tears.  "I  have  Aunt  Lucy,  and  old  Uncle  Abe, 
and  Rose,  and  Jennie.  I  won't  be  so  very  lonely. 
And  you  will  be  very  careful — and — and  come 
back  soon — won't  you?" 

"Of  course,  dear.  Very  soon.  Now  I'd  better 
get  a  few  things  together." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  19 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Grace  Duvall  stood  on 
the  steps  of  the  veranda,  watching  the  flying  auto 
mobile  as  it  rapidly  became  a  little  red  blur  in 
the  distant  road.  It  was  nearly  dark.  The  frogs 
in  the  patch  of  marsh  in  the  meadow  were  piping 
dismally.  She  shivered,  and  a  great  sense  of 
desolation  came  over  her.  She  sank  into  a  chair 
and  wept,  while  Don,  inserting  his  long  white 
muzzle  between  her  hands,  strove  to  lick  away 
her  tears. 

She  heard  Aunt  Lucy,  the  old  negro  cook,  sing 
ing  away  at  her  work  in  the  kitchen,  accompanied 
by  Uncle  Abe,  who  occupied  a  bench  on  the  back 
porch.  Everything  seemed  strangely  peaceful, 
and  lonely,  too,  now  that  Richard  had  gone.  She 
patted  the  eager  head  of  the  collie.  "We'll  have 
to  make  the  best  of  it,  Don,"  she  said,  and  rose 
to  enter  the  house. 

Suddenly  far  down  the  road  she  heard  the 
chugging  of  an  automobile.  They  were  not  fre 
quent  visitors,  upon  this  country  road.  Could  it 
be  Richard,  she  wondered,  returning  for  some 
thing  he  had  forgotten? 

She  stood,  straining  her  eyes  into  the  dusk, 
waiting,  while  with  one  hand  she  restrained  the 
eager  dog. 

Presently  she  saw  that  the  machine  was  not  a 


20  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

red  one.  It  was  not  Richard.  She  was  about  to 
enter  the  house,  when  she  realized  that  the  rap 
idly  moving  car  had  entered  the  grounds.  She 
turned  on  the  lights  in  the  hallway  and  stood, 
waiting,  the  dog  at  her  side  bristling  with  anger. 

In  a  moment  the  automobile  had  stopped,  and 
almost  before  she  realized  it,  a  small,  foreign- 
looking  man  stood  on  the  doorstep  before  her. 
"Madame  Duvall?"  he  inquired,  quickly,  in  a 
voice  which  showed  plainly  his  nationality. 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"Your  husband!    May  I  see  him?" 

"He  is  not  at  home." 

The  newcomer  seemed  greatly  disturbed. 
"Then  I  fear,  Madame,  that  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  wait  until  he  returns." 

"He  will  not  return.  He  has  gone  away  for 
sometime." 

"Ah!  That  is  indeed  a  calamity!"  The  man's 
face  showed  the  keenest  disappointment.  "May  I 
ask  where  I  can  find  him?" 

"It  will  be  quite  impossible."  Grace  had  no 
intention  of  telling  her  visitor  where  her  husband 
had  gone.  She  knew  too  well  the  intricacies  of 
his  profession,  for  that.  "You  cannot  find  him." 
She  made  as  though  to  close  the  door,  and  thereby 
terminate  the  interview. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  21 

The  newcomer  realized  her  intention.  Slowly 
he  raised  his  hand,  in  the  palm  of  which  showed 
the  seal  of  a  ring,  turned  inward.  It  was  of 
silver,  with  curious  figures  worked  into  it  in  gold. 
The  man  glanced  from  the  ring  to  Grace,  eying 
her  steadily.  "I  think,  Madame,"  he  said,  with 
a  meaning  smile,  "that  you  can  trust  me." 

Grace  recognized  the  ring  at  once.  It  was 
similar  to  one  she  herself  had  worn,  while  en 
gaged  in  the  memorable  search  for  the  ivory  snuff 
box  for  Monsieur  Lefevre,  Prefect  of  Police 
of  Paris.  Dear  old  Lefevre — the  friend  of 
Richard's,  and  of  her  own!  This  man  who 
stood  before  her  must  be  a  messenger  from 
him. 

"Come  in,  please,"  she  said,  quietly,  and  led 
the  way  to  the  library. 

The  man  followed  her,  calling  out  a  few  words 
to  his  chauffeur  as  he  did  so.  No  sooner  had 
they  reached  the  great  book-lined  room,  than  he 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  sealed  envelope. 

"Madame  Duvall,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "Mon 
sieur  Lefevre  has  cabled  to  his  representatives  in 
Washington  a  message.  That  message  is  con 
tained  in  this  envelope.  I  have  instructions  to 
deliver  it  to  your  husband  immediately.  In  case 
I  could  not  find  him,  I  am  to  hand  it  to  you. 


22  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Permit,  me,  Madame."     With  a  bow,  he  placed 
the  message  in  her  hand. 

Grace  took  the  envelope,  broke  the  heavy  seal 
which  it  bore,  and  drawing  out  a  slip  of  paper, 
hastily  read  the  contents.  The  message  was  from 
Monsieur  Lefevre.  It  said: 

My  dear  Duvall: 

You  promised,  on  the  occasion  of  our  last  meet 
ing,  to  come  to  me  should  I  ever  need  you.  I 
need  you  badly,  my  friend.  Come  at  once,  both 
you,  and  your  dear  wife.  LEFEVRE. 

Grace  looked  up  at  the  man  before  her,  the 
letter  crumpled  in  her  hand.  Here  was  a  mes 
sage  the  urgency  of  which  could  not  be  denied. 
She  knew  that,  had  Richard  been  at  home,  he 
would  have  gone  to  Paris  at  once  in  response  to 
it;  for  it  was  to  Monsieur  Lefevre  that  they  in 
reality  owed  all  their  happiness.  She  recalled 
vividly  their  wedding,  with  the  lovable  old 
Frenchman,  acting  as  her  father  for  the  occasion, 
giving  away  the  bride.  She  remembered  the  fare 
well  dinner  at  the  Prefect's  house,  and  the  beauti 
ful  gift  he  had  given  her  on  that  occasion.  Evi 
dently  Monsieur  Lefevre  desired  Richard's  pres 
ence  very  greatly,  and  her  own  as  well.  The 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  23 

thought  suddenly  came  to  her — why  not  go  to 
him? 

True,  Richard  had  left  her  in  charge  of  things 
at  home;  but  she  knew  that,  for  a  reasonable 
time,  at  least,  they  would  go  on  smoothly  enough 
without  her.  Hendricks,  the  overseer,  was  a 
capable  and  honest  man,  devoted  to  her  and  to 
her  husband. 

She  could  safely  leave  matters  in  his  charge. 
Then,  too,  the  thought  of  surprising  Richard  on 
the  steamer  sailing  the  next  day  appealed  to  her 
sense  of  mischief.  How  astounded  he  would  be, 
to  find  her  strolling  along  the  deck!  And  how 
delighted,  too !  She  wondered  that  the  thought 
of  accompanying  him  had  not  occurred  to  her 
more  strongly  before.  She  turned  to  the  man, 
who  stood  watching  her  narrowly. 

"You  know  the  contents  of  this  message?" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  he  bowed.  "It  came  to  us  by 
cable — in  cipher." 

"There  is  a  train  for  New  York  at  midnight, 
and  a  steamer  tomorrow  morning." 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Can  you  drive  me  to  Washington  in  your 
car?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,  Madame."  The  fellow's 
eyes  sparkled  with  satisfaction. 


24  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"Very  well.  Mr.  Duvall  is  in  New  York.  I 
will  take  the  message  to  him.  Wait  here,  please, 
until  I  get  some  clothes  together  and  give  some 
orders  to  my  servants." 

In  half  an  hour,  the  thing  was  done.  Hend- 
ricks,  the  overseer,  had  been  given  full  instruc 
tions  regarding  taking  charge  of  the  place,  with 
provision  for  his  needs  in  the  way  of  money,  etc., 
and  by  ten  o'clock,  at  which  time  the  New  York 
sleeper  was  open,  Grace  was  at  the  station,  pur 
chasing  her  ticket. 

The  obliging  Frenchman  gave  her  every  assist 
ance,  and  bade  her  bon  'voyage  smilingly  as  he 
helped  her  aboard  the  train.  She  retired  at  once, 
and  lay  in  her  berth,  reading  a  magazine,  and 
picturing  to  herself  Richard's  mingled  astonish 
ment  and  joy  at  their  meeting  in  the  morning. 
This  time,  she  was  determined  that  their  honey 
moon  should  not  be  interrupted. 

After  a  time,  she  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  that 
she  and  Richard  were  sailing  gaily  toward  Paris, 
in  a  large  red  touring  car. 

In  the  morning,  she  ate  a  hasty  breakfast  in 
the  railway  station,  and  took  a  taxicab  for  the 
steamship  offices.  By  great  good  fortune,  she 
was  able  to  secure  a  cabin.  Then  she  hastily 
visited  a  banking  house  where  she  was  well 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  23 

known,  provided  herself  with  funds,  and  drove  to 
the  dock. 

It  wanted  but  half  an  hour  till  sailing  time. 
Grace  hastened  to  her  stateroom,  and  busied  her 
self  in  effacing  the  stains  of  her  night  of  travel. 
She  was  determined  to  meet  Richard  looking  her 
best. 

It  was  not  until  the  big  steamer  was  passing 
through  the  Narrows  that  she  came  on  deck,  and 
began  looking  about  for  her  husband.  In  all  that 
crowd,  she  knew  it  would  take  time  to  find  him. 
After  searching  for  an  hour,  she  felt  somewhat 
surprised  at  not  seeing  him.  After  another  hour 
had  passed,  her  surprise  turned  to  alarm.  A' 
hasty  visit  to  the  purser,  and  an  examination  of 
the  sailing  list,  showed  her  the  astonishing  truth. 
Richard  was  not  on  board! 


CHAPTER  II 

RICHARD  DUVALL  arrived  in  New  York 
at  half  past  one  o'clock  Thursday  morn 
ing.      Hodgman,    Mr.    Stapleton's    secre 
tary,  had  wired  ahead  the  news  of  their  coming, 
and  the  banker's  limousine  awaited  them  at  the 
railway  station.     Fifteen  minutes  later  they  were 
ascending  the  steps  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  residence 
on  Fifth  Avenue. 

Duvall  had  not  been  to  the  house  before.  His 
previous  interviews  with  the  banker  had  taken 
place  at  the  latter's  office,  in  Broad  Street.  He 
had  no  time  now,  however,  to  observe  the  luxury 
of  his  surroundings.  Mr.  Hodgman  hurried  him 
at  once  to  the  library,  and  in  a  few  moments  Mr. 
Stapleton  had  joined  them. 

He  greeted  Duvall  with  a  nervous  handshake, 
and  thanked  him  for  his  prompt  coming.  He 
was  clearly  laboring  under  an  intense  mental 
strain. 

"Mr.  Hodgman  has  explained  my  reasons  for 
sending  for  you,  Mr.  Duvall?"  he  inquired,  sink 
ing  into  a  great  leather-covered  chair. 

26 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  27 

"Yes."     Duvall  nodded. 

"Then  you  can  appreciate  my  feelings."  He 
sat  in  silence  for  several  moments,  looking  gloom 
ily  at  the  floor. 

"Perfectly." 

"The  devils!  I  wouldn't  care  if  they  were 
to  steal  my  property — money,  securities,  any 
thing  like  that.  I  can  fight  them — on  that  basis. 
But  my  child!  Don't  you  see  why  your  coming 
was  of  the  utmost  importance  to  me?  I  don't 
dare  move  against  these  rascals  openly.  If  I  do, 
they  will  threaten  to  retaliate  by  injuring  my 
boy,  and  I  am  powerless.  Whatever  I  do,  must 
be  done  secretly.  No  one  must  know  that  you 
are  in  my  employ.  No  one  must  know  your  object 
in  going  to  Paris.  You  see  that?" 

"Most  certainly.  These  fellows  cannot  hold 
you  responsible  for  any  moves  the  police  authori 
ties  of  Paris  may  make;  over  them  you  of  course 
have  no  control.  But  if  you  make  any  efforts  on 
your  own  account,  any  independent  efforts,  to 
recover  your  boy,  they  must  by  all  means  be 
made  in  secret." 

"Exactly.  You  understand,  then,  what  you  are 
to  do?" 

"Yes.  But  first  I  must  ask  you,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton,  to  give  me  some  account  of  the  affair.  Mr. 


28  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Hodgman  has  told  me  only  that  your  son  has 
been  kidnapped.  No  doubt  you  have  learned  by 
this  time  how  the  thing  was  done." 

"What  I  have  learned,  Mr.  Duvall,  convinces 
me  of  the  importance  of  being  on  the  ground  at 
once.  The  affair,  as  cabled  to  me  by  my  wife,  is 
preposterous — absurd!"  He  again  gazed  at  the 
floor  in  gloomy  preoccupation. 

"How  so?"  the  detective  inquired. 

"I  will  tell  you.  My  boy,  who,  as  you  know,  is 
six  years  old,  has  been  in  the  habit  of  driving,  each 
morning,  accompanied  by  his  nurse,  from  my  house 
in  the  Avenue  Kleber,  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
On  arriving  in  the  Bois,  it  has  been  their  habit 
to  leave  the  automobile  in  which  they  came,  and 
spend  an  hour  or  more  walking  and  playing  on 
the  grass.  I  have  insisted  on  this,  because  the 
boy  needs  exercise,  and  he  cannot  get  it  driving 
about  in  a  motor  car." 

"During  this  hour  what  becomes  of  the  car?" 
asked  Duvall. 

"Our  orders  have  been,  of  course,  for  the 
chauffeur  to  wait,  within  sight  and  call.  I  believe 
he  has  done  so." 

"Thank  you.     Go  ahead." 

"On  Wednesday  the  nurse  took  Jack — the 
boy's  name  is  Jack — to  the  Bois  as  usual.  She 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  29 

played  about  with  him  on  the  grass  for  probably 
an  hour.  Then  she  sat  down  to  rest.  Jack  was 
standing  near  her,  playing  with  a  rubber  ball. 
She  says — and,  gentlemen,  my  wife  cables  me  that 
she  solemnly  swears  to  the  truth  of  hel^rtatements 
— that  she  turned  away  for  a  moment  to  observe 
passing  vehicles  in  the  road — turned  back  again 
to  the  child — and  found  that  he  was  gone." 

"Gone— but  how?" 

"How?  That's  the  question.  Here  is  this 
woman,  sitting  on  the  grass,  with  the  child,  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  road,  in  the  middle  of  a 
large  field  of  grass — a  lawn.  No  one  is  within 
sight.  The  nearest  person,  it  appears  from  her 
testimony,  is  the  chauffeur,  three  hundred  feet 
away,  in  the  road.  The  woman  turns  her  head 
for  a  moment,  looks  about — and  the  boy  is  gone. 
That  is  the  story  she  tells,  and  which  my  wife 
has  cabled  to  me.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  call  it 
preposterous?" 

"Hardly,"  remarked  Duvall,  with  a  grim  smile. 
"The  boy  could  not  have  vanished  into  thin  air. 
The  woman  must  be  lying." 

"That,  Mr.  Duvall,  is  what  I  cannot  under 
stand.  I  cannot  believe  that  the  woman  is  lying. 
My  wife  cannot  believe  it.  She  has  been  in  our 
employ  ever  since  the  boy  was  born,  and  is  de- 


30  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

voted  to  him.  Mrs.  Stapleton  cables  that  she  is 
completely  prostrated." 

"But,  Mr.  Stapleton,  you  can  hardly  believe 
such  a  story!  How  could  the  child  have  been 
stolen,  if  her  story  is  true?  It  is,  as  you  say,  pre 
posterous." 

"I  do  not  say  that  the  story  is  true,  Mr.  Du- 
vall.  I  say  that  I  do  not  think  that  Mary  is 
lying.  She  is  telling  what  she  believes  to  be  the 
truth.  She  turned  her  head  for  a  moment — the 
boy  was  gone.  That  is  what  she  says,  and  I  be 
lieve  her.  The  question  is — how  is  it  possible?" 

"It  isn't,"  Hodgman  grunted. 

"Everything  is  possible,  Hodgman,"  said  the 
banker,  reprovingly.  "The  best  proof  of  that, 
in  this  case,  is  that  it  has  happened.  What  means 
were  used,  I  cannot  imagine;  but  the  apparently 
impossible  has  happened.  The  boy  is  gone!" 

"Is  the  nurse  a  young  woman?"  the  detective 
inquired. 

"About  thirty,  I  should  say." 

"An  American?" 

"Yes.  Of  Irish  parentage.  Her  name  is  Lana- 
han — Mary  Lanahan." 

"A  New  Yorker?" 

"She  comes  from  Paterson,  New  Jersey.  Her 
people  live  there." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  31 

"Are  there  any  other  details — any  other  points 
of  interest?" 

"None,  so  far  as  I  know.  What  I  have  told 
you,  is  what  has  been  cabled  to  me  by  Mrs.  Staple- 
ton.  She  is  naturally  in  a  more  or  less  hysterical 
condition.  Nothing  can  be  accomplished  here. 
I  want  you  to  leave  by  today's  steamer.  I  myself, 
I  regret  to  say,  cannot  go  until  Saturday."  He 
passed  his  hand  nervously  across  his  forehead. 
"Only  matters  of  the  most  vital  importance  could 
keep  me  here  at  such  a  time,  Mr.  Duvall;  but, 
unfortunately,  such  matters  confront  me  now." 

"Have  you  any  reason  to  believe,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton,"  Duvall  inquired,  "that  the  kidnapping  is  the 
act  of  persons  from  this  side  of  the  water?  Have 
any  such  attempts  been  made  in  the  past?" 

Mr.  Stapleton  remained  silent  for  sometime, 
buried  in  thought.  Presently  he  spoke.  "I  am 
a  rich  man,  Mr.  Duvall — a  very  rich  man.  Men 
in  my  position  are  constantly  in  receipt  of  letters 
of  a  threatening  nature.  I  have  received  many 
such  letters,  in  the  past." 

"Was  the  matter  of  the  child  mentioned  in 
any  of  them?  Were  threats  made  involving 
him?" 

"There  was  one  such  letter." 

"When  did  you  receive  it?" 


32  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

"Last  fall — perhaps  six  months  ago." 

"Have  you  the  letter  now?" 

"Yes." 

"May  I  see  it?" 

The  banker  rose,  went  to  a  heavy  rosewood 
desk  at  one  side  of  the  room,  drew  open  one  of 
its  drawers,  and  removed  a  steel  despatch  box. 
He  opened  it  with  a  slender  key  and  took  out  a 
package  of  letters.  From  these,  after  some  hesi 
tation,  he  selected  one  and  silently  handed  it  to 
Duvall. 

The  detective  examined  the  letter  carefully. 
It  was  enclosed  in  a  cheap  white  envelope,  such 
as  are  sold  at  all  post  offices,  having  the  stamp 
printed  on  it.  The  letter  itself  was  roughly 
printed  in  ink  on  a  sheet  of  ruled  paper  evidently 
torn  from  an  ordinary  five-cent  pad.  It  said: 

"We  demand  fifty  thousand  dollars,  to  be 
placed  in  thousand-dollar  bills  inside  a  cigar  box 
and  expressed  to  John  Smith,  c/o  Express  Com 
pany,  Paterson,  N.  J.,  next  Monday  afternoon. 
The  man  who  will  call  for  the  package  on  Tues 
day  will  know  nothing  about  the  matter,  and  if 
you  arrest  him,  you  will  find  out  nothing.  Keep 
this  to  yourself  and  do  as  we  say,  if  you  value 
the  safety  of  your  child." 


BLUE  LIGHTS  33 

There  was  no  signature  to  the  letter.  Duvall 
read  it  through  with  great  care,  then  turned  to 
Mr.  Stapleton. 

"You  have  observed,  I  suppose,  that  the  place 
to  which  the  money  was  to  be  sent,  Paterson,  New 
Jersey,  is  the  home  of  your  child's  nurse,  Mary 
Lanahan." 

Mr.  Stapleton  started.  "I  confess,"  he  said 
"that,  in  the  agitated  state  of  mind  into  which  this 
affair  has  thrown  me,  I  had  completely  over 
looked  the  coincidence.  What  do  you  infer  from 
it?" 

"Only  this,  Mr.  Stapleton,  that  Mary  Lanahan 
may  know  more  about  this  matter  than  she  is 
willing  to  let  on.  I  must  keep  this  letter  for  the 
present" 

"Very  well."  The  banker  nodded.  "It  may 
prove  a  valuable  clue." 

"Possibly.  And  further,  Mr.  Stapleton,  I  shall 
not  sail  by  today's  steamer." 

"But — why  not?"  Stapleton  sat  up  in  his  chair 
in  surprise.  "You  will  lose  two  days." 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  be  lost.  I  must  make 
some  investigations  in  Paterson,  before  I  leave 
here.  Please  give  me,  if  you  can,  the  address  of 
Mary  Lanahan's  parents." 

Mr.  Stapleton  frowned.     "I  am  not  sure  that 


34  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

I  can  do  so,  Mr.  Duvall.  My  wife  has  charge 
of  these  matters.  But  I  recollect  having  heard 
that  her  father,  Patrick  Lanahan,  is  a  florist  in 
a  small  way,  and  no  doubt  you  can  readily  locate 
him.  But  I  fear  you  will  be  losing  valuable 
time." 

Duvall  rose.  "I  feel,  as  you  do,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton,  that  I  should  be  in  Paris  at  the  earliest  pos 
sible  moment;  but  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  some  investigations  on  this  side  before  I  go 
are  absolutely  necessary,  and  may  prove  of  in 
estimable  value  afterwards." 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  silent  for  several  minutes. 
Presently  he  raised  his  head.  "Under  the  cir 
cumstances,  Mr.  Duvall,  I  am  forced  to  admit 
the  truth  of  what  you  say.  Conduct  your  investi 
gations  as  quickly  as  possible,  however;  for  we 
must  positively  sail  by  Saturday's  boat." 

"I  shall  be  ready  then."  Duvall  took  up  his 
hat.  "Now  I  think  I  had  better  get  a  few  hours' 
sleep,  and  in  the  morning  I  will  make  an  early 
start  for  Paterson."  He  bowed  to  the  banker 
and  Mr.  Hodgman.  "Good  night,  gentlemen.  I 
shall  see  you  both  on  Saturday  morning.  The 
steamer  sails  shortly  after  noon,  I  believe.  Sup 
pose  I  come  here  at  ten  o'clock,  and  let  you  know 
what  I  have  learned?" 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  35 

Mr.  Stapleton  rose.  "If  I  receive  any  further 
news  of  importance  from  Paris,  Mr.  Duvall,  I 
will  advise  you  at  your  hotel.  Where  are  you 
stopping?" 

Duvall  gave  the  name  of  a  Times  Square  hotel 
at  which  he  usually  stopped,  and  with  a  quick 
"good  night"  left  the  house. 

It  was  shortly  after  nine  o'clock  the  next  morn 
ing  when  he  descended  from  the  train  at  Paterson, 
and  going  to  a  nearby  drug  store,  consulted  the 
directory  for  the  address  of  Patrick  Lanahan. 
He  found  it  without  difficulty,  and,  by  means  of 
an  electric  car,  was  soon  before  the  florist's  door. 

The  place  was  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  and  consisted  of  a  small,  rather  mean-look 
ing  cottage,  from  which  spread  out  on  each  side, 
like  the  two  wings  of  an  aeroplane,  the  long  glass 
greenhouses. 

A  little  gate  opened  to  a  short  brick  path,  lead 
ing  to  the  front  door  of  the  house. 

Duvall  went  up  the  path  and  rang  the  door 
bell.  A  wholesome-looking  Irish  woman,  of  per 
haps  fifty,  opened  the  door,  and,  in  response  to 
his  questions,  told  him  that  her  husband,  Patrick, 
was  out  in  the  garden  at  the  rear  of  the  house, 
busy  with  his  plants. 

She  directed  the  detective  along  a  narrow  area- 


36  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

way  at  the  side  of  the  house,  and  in  a  moment  re 
appeared  at  the  back  door. 

"Pat,"  she  called.  "Oh,  Pat!  Here's  a  gen 
tleman  to  see  you." 

A  short,  heavy-set  man,  with  gray  hair  and 
mustache  and  a  ruddy  and  weatherbeaten  face, 
arose  from  among  a  litter  of  flower  pots  and 
bulbs. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir?"  he  asked,  com 
ing  forward  and  wiping  his  hands  upon  his  over 
alls. 

The  detective  studied  the  man  before  him  in 
tently.  The  honest  and  clear-looking  eyes  told 
him  nothing  that  was  not  favorable. 

"I  came  to  ask  you  a  few  questions,  Mr.  Lana- 
han." 

"Questions,  is  it?  About  what?"  The  blue 
eyes  showed  a  sudden  flare  of  suspicion. 

"About  yourself,  and  your  family." 

"Who  may  you  be,  then?     Is  it  the  tax  man?" 

Duvall  smiled.  "Not  the  tax  man,"  he  said. 
"I  represent  a  firm  of  lawers  in  Washington.  My 
name  is  Johnson." 

Lanahan,  still  suspicious,  pointed  to  a  couple 
of  kitchen  chairs  that  stood  on  the  brick-paved 
yard  beneath  a  trellis  covered  with  hop  vines. 
"Sit  down,  sir.  I'll  have  a  smoke,  if  you  don't 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  37 

mind."  He  began  to  fill  his  short  clay  pipe. 
"What  would  lawyers  in  Washington  be  wantin' 
with  me?" 

"That  is  what  I  wish  to  find  out,  Mr.  Lana- 
han.  We — my  firm — have  been  advised  that  a 
certain  Michael  Lanahan,  of  Dublin,  recently 
died,  leaving  a  large  estate.  We  are  trying  to 
find  his  heirs.  Tell  me  something  about  yourself 
and  your  family." 

The  look  of  suspicion  and  reserve  which  the 
old  man  had  up  to  this  time  shown  faded  from 
his  face,  and  was  replaced  by  a  smile  of  incredu 
lity.  "Money,  Is  it?"  he  laughed.  "Mary — that's 
my  wife — has  been  seein'  bubbles  in  her  tay  for 
the  week  past.  What  is  it  you  would  know?" 

"Are  you  from  Dublin?" 

"Me  father  was.  I  was  born  right  here  in 
Jersey,  meself." 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"Patrick,  the  same  as  me  own.  But  he  had  a 
brother,  Mike." 

,      "Ah.     It  may  be  the  same."     Duvall  pretended 
a  sudden  interest.     "His  business?" 

"Mike's?  Faith — I  never  heard  he  had  any, 
lest  it  was  drinkin'  all  the  good  liquor  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on." 

Duvall  pretended  to  make  a  series  of  entries 


38  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

in  his  notebook.  "Now  about  yourself,  Mr. 
Lanahan.  Have  you  any  children?  Of  course, 
should  there  be  any  money  coming  to  you,  they 
would  share  in  it." 

"Children,  is  it?     I  have  two." 

"Boys?" 

"One  is  a  boy — a  man  be  now,  I  should  say. 
He's  in  the  city — workin'.  His  name  is  Barney." 

"What  does  he  do?" 

Lanahan  looked  up  with  a  quick  frown.  "The 
last  I  heard  tell,  he  was  tendin'  bar,  Mr.  Johnson 
— over  at  Callahan's  saloon,  on  the  Bowery.  He's 
wild — wild — like  me  uncle  Mike,  I  should  say." 

"And  the  other?" 

The  old  man's  face  took  on  a  contented  look. 
"The  other  is  me  daughter  Mary,  bless  her.  She's 
nurse  in  the  family  of  old  man  Stapleton,  the  mil 
lionaire." 

Duvall  closed  his  book.  "I  see,"  he  remarked, 
pleasantly.  "She's  not  married,  I  suppose?" 

"Mary?"  Divil  a  bit!  For  a  time,  she  was 
sweet  on  a  French  chuffer  that  worked  for  Mr. 
Stapleton;  but  the  fellow's  gone,  now,  and  she's 
clane  forgot  him.  That  was  near  a  year  ago." 

"Ah,  yes.  Do  you  happen  to  remember  his 
name?" 

"Alphonse,  it  was — Alphonse  Valentin,  or  some 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  39 

such  joke  of  a  name.  A  comic  valentine  he  was, 
too,  with  his  dinky  little  mustache  and  his  cigar 
ettes."  He  laughed  loudly.  "Imagine  my  Mary, 
married  to  a  gink  like  that!" 

Duvall  replaced  his  notebook  in  his  pocket 
and  rose.  "I'm  mightily  obliged  to  you,  Mr. 
Lanahan.  We  will  advise  you  at  once,  if  our  in 
vestigations  show  that  you  are  related  to  the 
Michael  Lanahan  whose  fortune  is  in  our  hands. 
I'm  obliged  to  you  for  your  courtesy." 

The  florist  nodded.  "You're  welcome,  sir.  I 
guess  them  Lanahan's  must  be  a  different  breed. 
I  never  heard  tell  of  any  of  my  people  makin' 
any  fortune.  Good  day,  sir."  He  turned  to  his 
work,  chuckling. 

Duvall  rode  back  to  the  station,  and  took  the 
first  train  for  New  York.  It  was  clear  that  Mary 
Lanahan's  parents  had  nothing  in  common  with 
blackmailers  and  kidnappers.  Their  honesty  was 
as  evident  as  the  blueness  of  their  eyes,  or  the 
redness  of  their  hair.  But  the  information  about 
Alphonse  Valentin,  the  chauffeur,  and  Barney, 
Mr.  Lanahan's  son,  seemed  more  promising. 

It  was  close  to  one  o'clock  when  Duvall  arrived 
at  Callahan's  saloon,  on  the  Bowery,  near  Canal 
Street.  Here  a  disappointment  awaited  him. 
Barney  Lanahan  had  thrown  up  his  job  and  left 


40  'THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

two  months  before.  Callahan  had  no  idea  where 
he  had  gone.  He  had  not  been  about  the  place 
since.  A  negro  porter  volunteered  the  informa 
tion  that  he  had  seen  the  man  entering  the  Broad 
way  saloon  of  an  ex-prizefighter  some  weeks  be 
fore;  but,  beyond  that,  Duvall  could  learn  nothing. 
|~y*After  a  hasty  luncheon  he  went  to  his  office 
on  Union  Square,  where  his  unexpected  appear 
ance  caused  his  assistants  unlimited  surprise.  He 
directed  them  to  locate  Barney  Lanahan  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  He  then  called  up  Mr. 
Stapleton's  secretary,  Mr.  Hodgman,  and  in 
quired  about  the  chauffeur. 

Mr.  Hodgman  informed  him  that  the  banker 
had  employed  Valentin  in  Paris  some  eighteen 
months  previous,  and  had  brought  him  to  this 
country,  where  he  had  remained  in  his  employ 
for  about  six  months.  He  had  been  discharged, 
through  some  dishonesty  in  the  matter  of  pur 
chasing  supplies,  and  nothing  further  had  been 
seen  or  heard  of  him. 

Duvall,  on  receiving  this  information,  pro 
ceeded  at  once  to  the  office  of  the  French  line, 
and  asked  permission  to  inspect  their  passenger 
lists  for  the  past  year.  He  concluded  that  if 
.Valentin  had  anything  to  do  with  the  kidnapping 
of  Mr.  Stapleton's  boy,  he  was,  in  all  probability, 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  41 

in  Paris,  and,  if  so,  would  almost  certainly  have 
crossed  by  this  line.  He  was  therefore  not  at  all 
surprised  to  find  the  name  of  Alphonse  Valentin 
among  those  sailing  during  the  preceding  March. 

There  was  little  more  that  he  could  accomplish, 
now,  beyond  writing  a  long  letter  to  Grace,  whom 
he  naturally  supposed  to  be  patiently  awaiting  his 
return  in  the  country.  He  had  a  short  interview 
with  Mr.  Hodgman  in  the  evening,  and  was  lucky 
enough  to  secure  a  photograph  of  Alphonse  Val 
entin,  the  chauffeur,  taken  at  the  steering  wheel 
of  his  machine.  The  car  had,  it  seemed,  been 
photographed,  along  with  a  party  of  guests,  by 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  with  a  leaning  toward 
amateur  photography.  Duvall  placed  the  photo 
graph  among  his  belongings  with  a  smile  of  sat 
isfaction.  He  felt  that  his  delay  had  been  by  no 
means  unprofitable. 

One  other  step  he  took,  before  leaving.  Ac 
companied  by  Mr.  Hodgman,  he  made  a  careful 
inspection  of  the  room  which  had  been  occupied 
by  the  nurse,  Mary  Lanahan,  at  the  Stapleton 
house.  .The  results  were  distressingly  meager. 
All  the  woman's  belongings  she  had  evidently 
taken  with  her,  on  going  abroad.  There  appeared 
to  be  nothing  which  would  afford  the  slightest 
clue  to  her  character  or  habits. 


42  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

Mr.  Hodgman  turned  to  the  door  with  an  im 
patient  frown.  "Nothing  here,"  he  growled,  and 
was  about  to  leave  the  room. 

"Nothing  much,"  said  Duvall,  glancing  care 
lessly  at  the  wooden  edge  of  the  bureau.  "This 
woman,  Mary  Lanahan,  is  evidently  an  up-to- 
date  sort  of  person." 

Hodgman  paused.  "Why  do  you  say  that?" 
he  asked. 

"Smokes  cigarettes,  I  see." 

"That  so.     How  do  you  know?" 

Duvall  smiled.  "Too  simple  even  to  mention, 
Mr.  Hodgman.  See  those  burns  on  the  varnish?" 
He  pointed  to  a  number  of  spots  along  the  edge 
of  the  dresser.  "Always  find  them  somewhere 
about,  where  there's  a  cigarette  smoker.  He 
gazed  out  of  the  window  for  a  moment.  "Rooms 
tell  a  great  deal  about  the  personality  of  the  peo 
ple  who  have  occupied  them.  For  instance,  I've 
never  seen  this  Lanahan  girl,  but  I  know  that  she's 
not  over  five  feet  four,  that  she  has  light  hair, 
that  she  reads  in  bed,  that  she  writes  with  a  stub 
pen,  and  that  she's  a  Roman  Catholic.  Further 
more,  she  is  left  handed,  inclined  to  be  vain, 
wears  her  hair  in  waves,  or  curls,  in  front,  is 
fond  of  the  theater,  and  has  a  long  narrow  scar 
on  the  palm  of  her  left  hand." 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  43 

He  chuckled  quietly,  as  he  saw  Mr.  Hodg- 
man's  look  of  amazement.  "All  very  simple — 
quite  elementary,  in  fact.  I  won't  even  bother  to 
tell  you  how  I  know — just  little  things  here  and 
there  about  the  room.  Here's  one  of  them,"  he 
said,  as  he  picked  up  a  rusty  pen  point  from  the 
desk.  "That  shows  she  uses  a  stub,  of  course; 
but  the  way  the  point  is  worn  also  proves  that 
she's  left  handed.  And  here's  another."  He 
pointed  to  the  electric  bulb  which  hung  over  the 
head  of  the  bed.  "Nobody  would  use  that  light, 
except  to  read  by  in  bed.  The  others  in  the  room 
are  more  than  sufficient  for  purposes  of  illumina 
tion.  Yet  the  lamp  has  been  used  continuously,  as 
its  condition  shows.  See  how  blackened  the  glass 
is — and  notice  also  how  the  white  enamel  of  the 
back  of  the  bed  is  worn  off,  just  under  the  lamp. 
That's  from  propping  a  pillow  against  it,  night 
after  night."  He  turned  toward  the  door.  "Of 
course,  those  things  aren't  of  any  value,  probably, 
in  this  case;  but  I  can't  help  noticing  them.  Force 
of  habit,  I  suppose." 

When  Duvall  arrived  at  the  Stapleton  house 
on  Saturday  morning,  he  found  the  banker  some 
what  disturbed  by  a  cablegram  he  had  just  re 
ceived.  "Mary  claims  attempts  made  to  poison 
her.  Will  recover.  Come  at  once,"  it  read. 


44  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

The  detective  appeared  to  be  somewhat  aston 
ished,  on  reading  the  cablegram.  "Looks  as 
though  somebody  was  afraid  she  might  be  going 
to  talk,"  he  remarked.  "The  sooner  we  arrive 
in  Paris,  now,  the  better." 


CHAPTER  III 

GRACE  DUVALL'S  first  inclination,  on 
finding  herself  en  route  for  Europe,  with 
out  her  husband,  was  to  send  him  a  wire 
less,  advising  him  of  her  movements.  Then  she 
decided,  for  several  reasons,  not  to  do  so.  Chief 
among  these  was  the  fear  that  such  a  startling 
piece  of  news  would  be  likely  to  cause  him  a 
great  deal  of  unnecessary  anxiety.  She  knew  that 
she  could  never  hope  to  explain  matters,  within 
the  limits  of  a  marconigram.  And  then,  too,  it 
was  highly  inadvisable,  she  knew,  to  mention  in 
a  wireless  message  the  real  reason  which  had 
caused  her  to  leave  home. 

So  she  decided  to  make  the  best  of  the  matter, 
realizing  that  within  a  few  days,  she  would  see 
Richard  in  Paris,  and  explain  everything  to  his 
satisfaction. 

Immediately  on  reaching  Paris,  she  drove  to 
the  office  of  the  Prefect  of  Police,  and  sent  in  her 
card  to  Monsieur  Lefevre.  She  thought  it  pos 
sible  that  he  would  expect  her,  as  his  agent  in 

45 


46  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

Washington  would  no  doubt  have  communicated 
with  him.  Nor  was  she  mistaken. 

He  rushed  into  the  anteroom  as  soon  as  he 
received  her  card,  and  embraced  her  with  true 
Gallic  fervor,  kissing  her  on  both  cheeks  until 
she  blushed.  Then  he  drew  her  into  his  private 
office. 

"Where  is  your  husband?"  he  asked,  eagerly, 
as  soon  as  Grace  was  seated. 

"I — I  do  not  know.  Probably  on  his  way  to 
Paris." 

"But — my  dear  child!  Did  he  not  then  come 
with  you?" 

"No.     He — he  had  other  business." 

"Other  business !  But  I  understood  that  he  had 
temporarily  retired."  The  Prefect  seemed  greatly 
astonished. 

"So  he  had;  but  an  old  friend,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton"— 

Lefevre  did  not  allow  her  to  finish.  "Staple- 
ton!"  he  fairly  shouted.  "He  is  employed  by 
him?  MonDieu!" 

"Why  not?"  asked  Grace  in  surprise. 

"But — it  was  for  that  very  case  that  I  desired 
his  assistance.  And  by  this  Stapleton,  who  cables 
that  the  whole  police  force  of  Paris  are  a  lot  of 
jumping  jacks!  Sacre!  It  is  insufferable!" 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  47 

"You  wanted  my  husband  for  the  same  case?" 

"Assuredly!  What  else?  The  child  of  this 
pig  of  a  millionaire  is  stolen — what  you  call — kid 
napped!  We  have  been  unable  to  find  the  slight 
est  clue.  I  am  in  despair.  My  men  assure  me 
that  it  is  the  work  of  an  American  gang.  I  con 
ceive  the  hope  that  Monsieur  Duvall  may  know 
these  men — that  he  may  be  in  possession  of  in 
formation  that  will  lead  to  their  capture.  This 
rich  American,  he  has  spoken  with  contempt  of 
the  Paris  police.  The  efficiency  of  my  office  is 
questioned.  My  honor  is  at  stake.  I  send  for 
my  friend  Duvall,  to  assist  me,  and — sacre! — I 
find  him  already  working  for  this  man  who  has 
insulted  me.  It  is  monstrous!" 

Grace  could  scarcely  repress  a  smile.  Flow 
excessively  French  the  Prefect  was,  after  all. 
"My  husband  did  not  know,  when  he  agreed  to 
take  the  case  for  Mr.  Stapleton,  that  you  wanted 
him.  He  does  not  know  it  now.  Pie  has  not  yet 
received  your  message." 

"Then  he  does  not  know  that  you  are  in 
Paris?" 

"No.  I  thought  he  would  be  crossing  on  the 
same  boat.  When  I  found  that  he  wasn't,  my 
first  thought  was  to  send  him  a  wireless.  Then 
I  realized  that  I  couldn't  do  so,  without  saying 


48 

something  about  the  business  that  had  called  me 
to  Paris — without,  in  fact,  mentioning  you.  I 
feared  to  do  this — for  there  are  so  many  people 
nowadays  tapping  the  wireless.  I  thought  it  bet 
ter  to  keep  the  matter  a  secret." 

"And  you  did  quite  right.  I  wanted  your  hus 
band  to  take  up  this  case,  quite  independently, 
and  without  it  being  known  to  anyone  that  he 
was  in  my  employ."  He  paused  for  a  moment 
in  deep  thought.  "No  doubt  his  employment  by 
Mr.  Stapleton  is  to  be  kept  equally  secret." 

"I  suppose  so.  He  asked  me  not  to  say  any 
thing  about  it.  I  had  to  tell  you,  to  explain  mat 
ters." 

"And  he  doesn't  know  that  you  are  in  Paris?" 
The  Prefect  gave -a  sudden  laugh.  "Ma  foi! — 
what  a  joke!" 

"A  joke?" 

"Assuredly!  Don't  you  see?  I  am  going  to 
ask  you  to  take  up  this  case,  yourself.  I  must 
use  every  means  to  recover  the  child  of  this  Staple- 
ton,  before  others  do  so  for  him.  My  profes 
sional  pride  will  not  permit  me  to  be  beaten.  If 
I  can't  have  your  husband,  at  least  I  shall  have 
you." 

"But — I  shall  be  working  in  opposition  to  him." 

"Not  in  opposition.     You  will  both  have  the 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  49 

same  object  in  view — the  recovery  of  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  boy.  Whichever  of  you  does  so  first,  the 
result  will  be  the  same — the  boy  will  be  restored 
to  his  parents.  But  I  want  you,  my  child,  to  be 
the  one  to  do  this." 

"But,  Monsieur  Lefevre,  I  could  not  hope  to 
accomplish  anything — where  trained  men  have 
failed." 

"Who  knows?  I  remember  well  the  assistance 
you  gave  us,  in  the  matter  of  the  ivory  snuff  box. 
Without  your  help,  we  should  never  have  recov 
ered  it.  I  have  faith  in  a  woman's  intuition.  You 
will  find  this  child  for  me,  and  give  your  husband 
the  surprise  of  his  life." 

"But,"  said  Grace,  smiling  mischievously  at  the 
prospect  which  opened  before  her,  "suppose  he 
should  see  me?" 

"You  must  disguise  yourself  somewhat.  Change 
the  color  of  your  hair;  it  is  easily  done — here  in 
Paris."  The  Prefect  laughed.  "A  slight  altera 
tion  in  appearance  only  will  be  necessary.  And 
do  not  recognize  your  husband,  should  you  meet 
him  face  to  face.  That  is  most  important." 

"Why?" 

"Because,  should  he  become  convinced  that  it 
is  really  you,  I  fear  he  would  insist  upon  your 
dropping  the  case  entirely,  and  that  would  not 


50  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

suit  my  plans  at  all.  Come,  my  child."  The  Pre 
fect's  eyes  twinkled  with  amusement  "Do  this 
thing  for  me.  It  will  be  a  little  joke,  between  us. 
The  honeymoon  detectives,  I  called  you,  once. 
What  an  amusing  thing,  that  now  you  should  be 
working  in  competition  with  each  other,  on  the 
same  case!"  He  began  to  laugh  heartily. 

"Well,"  said  Grace,  her  sense  of  mischief  get 
ting  the  better  of  her,  "now  that  I'm  here,  I  sup 
pose  I  might  as  well  keep  busy.  Richard  won't 
be  here  for  two  days,  and  I  may  find  out  some 
thing  in  that  time." 

"Excellent!"  The  Prefect  clapped  his  hand 
smartly  upon  his  knee.  "You  have  two  days' 
start.  In  two  days,  much  may  be  accomplished. 
Come,  let  us  go  over  the  case  in  detail." 

An  hour  later,  Grace  left  the  Prefect's  office 
in  a  taxicab,  having  arranged  to  have  her  baggage 
sent  to  Monsieur  Lefevre's  house,  where  she  was 
to  stay  while  in  Paris.  Her  previous  acquaintance 
with  Madame  Lefevre  made  this  an  ideal  ar 
rangement.  She  was  to  pose  as  a  friend,  in  Paris 
on  a  visit. 

She  ordered  the  driver  of  the  taxicab  to  take 
her  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house  in  the  Avenue 
Kleber. 

She  found  Mrs.  Stapleton  to  be  a  very  pretty 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  51 

and  stylish  woman  of  thirty;  whose  beauty,  how 
ever,  was  sadly  marred  by  the  intense  suffering 
through  which  she  was  passing.  The  poor  crea 
ture  had  scarcely  slept  for  over  a  week,  and  her 
distress  was  pitiable. 

She  answered  Grace's  questions  as  well  as  she 
could,  under  the  circumstances.  There  was,  after 
all,  little  to  say.  The  nurse,  it  appeared,  stuck  to 
her  story — that  the  boy  had  vanished,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  while  her  back  had  been 
turned  for  but  a  few  moments.  Mrs.  Stapleton 
could  offer  no  explanation — attempted  none. 

"It  is  all  so  mysterious — so  terrible!"  she  cried. 
"Poor  Mary — she  is  too  ill  to  see  you,  I  fear, 
or  I  would  have  her  tell  you  the  story  herself." 

"Too  ill?"  inquired  Grace,  who  had  come  more 
to  question  the  maid,  than  Mrs.  Stapleton. 
"What  is  the  matter  with  her?" 

"They  tried  to  poison  her — last  Friday." 

"They?     Who?" 

"I  do  not  know.  She  went  out  for  a  walk. 
The  poor  woman  was  half  dead,  from  nervous 
exhaustion  and  loss  of  sleep.  She  tells  me  that 
she  stopped  to  get  a  cup  of  chocolate  at  a  cafe 

in  the   Rue  St.   Honore.     After  that  she  came 

t 

back  to  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  sat  upon  a  bench. 
She  began  suddenly  to  feel  deathly  ill,  and,  call- 


52  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

ing  a  cab,  was  driven  home.  When  she  arrived 
here,  she  was  unconscious,  and  had  to  be  car 
ried  to  her  room  by  the  servants.  She  has  been 
in  bed  ever  since.  I  am  glad  to  say,  however, 
that  she  is  better,  and  I  think  she  could  see  you, 
by  morning." 

Grace  left  the  Stapleton  house,  feeling  some 
what  baffled.  The  more  she  heard  of  this  curious 
affair,  the  more  inexplicable  it  seemed.  She  had 
hoped  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  kidnapping,  in 
company  with  the  nurse,  and  examine  the  spot 
with  her  own  eyes.  This  she  now  realized  she 
could  not  do  until  the  following  day.  She  was 
walking  in  the  direction  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe, 
revolving  the  affair  in  her  mind,  when  a  young 
man,  evidently  a  Frenchman,  of  good  appearance 
and  not  unpleasant  face,  came  up  beside  her, 
bowed  politely,  and  in  excellent  English  asked  her 
regarding  Mary  Lanahan. 

"Miss  Lanahan — is  she  better?"  he  inquired. 

"Who  are  you,  monsieur?"  asked  Grace,  sup 
pressing  her  inclination  to  resent  the  man's  action, 
in  her  hope  that  she  might  learn  something  from 
him  of  value.  His  question  showed  Grace  at 
once  that  he  was  acquainted  with  at  least  one 
member  of  the  Stapleton  household. 

"I  am  a  friend  of  Miss  Lanahan's,"  the  man 


53 

replied.  "I  hear  that  she  is  ill.  I  saw  you  enter 
and  leave  the  house,  and  I  ventured  to  ask  you 
if  she  is  better." 

"I  was  told  that  she  is.     I  did  not  see  her." 

A  peculiar  expression  crossed  the  young  man's 
face;  but  Grace  could  not  determine,  so  fleeting 
was  it,  whether  it  indicated  pleasure  or  disappoint 
ment. 

They  walked  along  in  silence  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  had  almost  reached  the  arch,  when 
a  ragged  little  urchin,  a  veritable  Paris  gamin, 
came  up  to  Grace's  companion  and  thrust  a  crum 
pled  bit  of  paper  into  his  hand,  then  darted  off, 
whistling  shrilly. 

The  man  looked  after  him  a  moment,  then 
examined  the  note.  Whatever  its  contents,  they 
made  a  startling  impression  upon  him.  He 
looked  about,  an  expression  of  fear  upon  his 
face,  turned  to  Grace  with  a  hurried  bow,  and  a 
quick  good  evening,  and  at  once  walked  off  in  the 
opposite  direction  at  full  speed,  at  the  same  time 
fumbling  in  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat,  as 
though  searching  for  something  iia  it.  In  his  ef 
forts,  he  dropped  several  papers  to  the  street. 
Grace  watched  him  as  he  picked  them  hurriedly 
up  and  moved  off  into  the  gathering  darkness. 

She  fancied  that  one  of  the  bits  of  paper  had 


54  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

escaped  his  notice,  and,  on  going  back  to  the  spot, 
found  that  she  was  correct.  A  small  visiting  card 
lay  upon  the  sidewalk.  She  picked  it  up,  and  read 
the  name  as  she  walked  away.  It  was  Alphonse 
Valentin,  Boulevard  St.  Michel. 

Grace  slipped  the  card  into  her  pocketbook. 
The  man's  name  meant  nothing  to  her — she 
fancied  that  he  was  some  friend  of  Miss  Lana- 
han's,  concerned  about  her  condition.  Yet  why 
did  he  not  inquire  for  her  at  the  house,  in  the 
ordinary  way?  And  why  should  the  note,  handed 
to  him  by  the  street  urchin,  have  caused  him  such 
evident  alarm? 

She  glanced  at  her  watch,  and  saw  that  it  was 
close  to  seven  o'clock.  She  had  intended  to  re 
turn  to  Monsieur  Lefevre's  for  dinner;  but  a 
sudden  determination  to  find  out  more  about  this 
man  Valentin  caused  her  to  proceed  at  once  to  a 
hotel  near  the  Louvre,  where  she  ate  her  dinner 
alone. 

An  hour  later  she  descended  from  a  cab  at  the 
number  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  which  was 
inscribed  upon  Alphonse  Valentin's  card. 

The  place  was  a  dingy  old  building,  the  main 
floor  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  dealer  in  cheese. 
A  narrow  doorway  at  one  side  gave  access  to  the 
upper  floors.  Grace  rang  the  bell,  and  waited  in 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  55 

some  trepidation.  This  going  about  Paris  at 
night  was  rather  an  unusual  experience.  She 
thought  of  the  simple  joys  of  her  life  at  home, 
and  for  a  moment  regretted  that  she  had  not 
stayed  there.  The  opening  of  the  door  inter 
rupted  her  thoughts. 

The  woman  who  stood  in  the  hallway  regarded 
her  without  particular  interest,  and  inquired  her 
business.  "I  wish  to  see  Monsieur  Valentin,"  said 
Grace. 

"He  is  not  in." 

"Then  I  will  wait.  I  must  see  him.  He  ex 
pects  me." 

The  woman  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "As  you 
wish,  mademoiselle.  Come  this  way."  She  led 
Grace  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  and  indicated  a  door 
at  the  rear  of  the  upper  hall.  "That  is  Monsieur 
Valentin's  room."  Then  she  turned  away,  ap 
parently  quite  indifferent  as  to  whether  Grace  en 
tered  or  not. 

The  latter  placed  her  hand  on  the  knob  of  the 
door,  and  slowly  pushed  it  open.  The  room  was 
dark;  but  the  light  from  the  rear  windows  ren 
dered  the  objects  within  it  faintly  visible.  Upon 
the  table  stood  a  lamp.  With  some  difficulty  the 
girl  succeeded  in  finding  a  match,  and  lit  it. 

The  light  of  the  lamp  disclosed  a  rather  large 


56  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

room,  with  a  small  alcove  in  the  rear,  containing 
a  bed.  The  alcove  was  curtained  off  from  the 
main  room.  Grace,  however,  did  not  spend  much 
time  in  examining  her  surroundings.  A  photo 
graph  on  the  table  at  once  attracted  her  attention 
— not  because  it  represented  anyone  she  knew, 
but  because,  across  the  bottom  of  it,  was  inscribed, 
in  a  feminine  hand,  "Mary  Lanahan." 

She  had  just  completed  her  examination  of  the 
photograph,  when  two  other  objects  attracted  her 
attention.  One  was  a  crumpled  bit  of  paper, 
upon  which  a  few  words  were  scrawled  in 
lead-pencil.  They  were,  "I  am  suspicious  of 
Francois.  Watch  him.  The  note  was  un 
signed. 

The  third  object  upon  the  table  which  caught 
Grace's  attention  was  a  box  of  cigarettes,  open, 
and  nearly  full.  They  were  small  gold-tipped 
affairs,  of  the  kind  generally  used  by  women,  and 
it  was  this  peculiarity  that  at  first  attracted  her 
attention.  She  thought  it  strange,  that  a  man 
should  use  such  cigarettes.  She  looked  at  the 
box,  and  observed  that  they  were  of  American 
make. 

Idly  she  took  up  one  of  the  cigarettes,  and  held 
it  in  her  fingers.  She  read  the  name  of  the  brand, 
printed  upon  the  paper  wrapper,  and  was  about 


Once  inside  he  made  without  hesitation  for  the  table,  picked 
up  the  box  of  cigarettes  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  57 

to  drop  it  back  into  the  box,  when  she  heard  a 
curious  rasping  noise  outside  one  of  the  rear  win 
dows.  It  sounded  as  though  someone  were  climb 
ing  the  wall  of  the  house.  Instinctively  she 
shrank  back  and  concealed  herself  behind  one 
of  the  curtains  which  hung  before  the  alcove 
door. 

The  rasping  and  scraping  continued  for  some 
little  time,  and  presently  Grace,  peering  through 
the  space  between  the  curtains,  saw  a  face  appear 
at  one  of  the  windows.  It  was  a  determined  face, 
heavily  bearded,  dark,  evil  looking.  Its  gleaming 
eyes  swept  the  room  with  cautious  care,  then,  evi 
dently  satisfied  that  it  was  unoccupied,  their 
owner  began  noiselessly  to  raise  the  sash  of  the 
window. 

It  was  slow  work.  Several  minutes  passed  be 
fore  the  man  succeeded  in  raising  the  sash  suf 
ficiently  to  permit  him  to  crawl  into  the  room. 
Once  inside,  he  made  without  hesitation  for  the 
table,  glanced  over  its  contents,  picked  up  the  box 
of  cigarettes  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and 
then,  without  paying  the  Least  attention  to  any 
thing  else,  walked  quickly  to  the  door  of  the  room 
and  passed  out  into  the  hall. 

The  girl  waited  for  a  moment,  then  stepped 
into  the  light.  As  she  did  so,  she  realized  that 


58  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

she  held  in  her  hand  one  of  the  gold-tipped  cigar 
ettes  she  had  taken  from  the  box.  She  quickly 
thrust  it  into  her  pocketbook,  and,  with  sudden 
decision,  left  the  room  and  descended  the  stairs. 
She  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  the  man  who 
had  stolen  the  cigarettes  was  in  some  way  con 
nected  with  the  kidnapping  of  the  Stapleton 
child.  She  determined  to  follow  him,  leaving 
the  interview  with  Alphonse  Valentin  to  another 
time. 

She  left  the  house,  and  saw  the  man  goin£ 
down  the  Boulevard  some  fifty  feet  in  advance  of 
her.  She  walked  along  after  him,  pretending  to 
be  totally  uninterested  in  her  surroundings,  while 
at  the  same  time  keeping  a  sharp  watch  upon 
him. 

He  seemed  in  somewhat  of  a  hurry,  and  walked 
briskly  along,  looking  neither  to  left  nor  to  right. 
Grace  kept  as  close  to  him  as  she  dared,  without 
running  the  risk  of  detection.  The  walk  was  a 
long  one.  When  half  an  hour  had  passed,  the 
girl  saw  that  they  were  entering  the  Champs 
Elysees.  The  Seine  they  had  long  since  crossed 
by  the  Pont  Neuf.  Up  the  brilliantly  lighted  ave 
nue  they  went,  toward  Arc  de  Triomphe.  At  the 
corner  of  the  Avenue  Kleber,  the  man  turned  to 
the  left.  Grace  followed,  wondering  where  the 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  59 

chase  would  lead  next.  To  her  astonishment,  the 
man  disappeared  suddenly  through  a  gate  which 
formed  the  servants'  entrance  of  one  of  the  stately 
houses  which  fronted  on  the  avenue.  She  looked 
up.  It  was  the  house  of  Mr.  Stapleton! 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  the  day  following  that  upon  which  she 
arrived  in  Paris,  Grace  Duvall  sallied 
forth,  determined  to  find  out  two  things — 
first,  the  position  occupied  by  Alphonse  Valentin 
in  the  affair  of  the  kidnapping;  secondly,  the  iden 
tity  of  the  man  who  had  stolen  the  box  of  cigar 
ettes  from  Valentin's  room,  and  gone  with  them 
to  the  house  in  the  Avenue  Kleber.  The  latter 
incident  seemed  trivial  enough,  at  first  sight;  yet 
she  reasoned  that  no  one  would  risk  arrest  on  the 
score  of  burglary,  to  steal  anything  of  such  trifling 
value,  without  an  excellent  reason. 

She  had  a  short  conference  with  Monsieur 
Lefevre,  before  she  left  the  house,  and  told  him 
of  the  events  of  the  previous  night.  The  Prefect 
seemed  greatly  interested. 

"Could  you  identify  the  man  who  stole  the 
cigarettes?"  he  asked. 

"Easily.     I  had  a  splendid  view  of  his  face." 

"Then  go  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house  and  take  a 

60 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  61 

look  at  all  the  servants.  You  may  'find  him 
among  them." 

"I  had  intended  to  do  so,  this  morning." 

The  Prefect  smiled.  "I  do  not  know  what 
your  investigations  will  lead  to,  but  they  seem 
promising.  I  have  a  dozen  men  working  on  the 
case;  yet  so  far  they  have  not  made  the  least 
progress.  Their  efforts,  however,  are  directed 
toward  finding  the  child.  They  are  searching  the 
city  with  the  utmost  care.  We  believe  that  by 
discovering  the  missing  boy,  we  shall  also  find  the 
persons  who  committed  the  crime." 

"Have  you  no  one  under  suspicion?" 

"No  one.  The  nurse,  Mary  Lanahan,  is  of 
course  being  closely  watched;  also  the  chauffeur, 
Francois.  My  men  report,  however,  that  he  gave 
them  the  slip  for  an  hour,  last  night.  I  have  an 
idea  that  he  may  prove  to  be  the  one  who  toolr 
the  cigarettes." 

"Can  you  imagine  any  reason  for  his  having 
done  so?" 

"I  confess,  my  child,  that  I  cannot.  It  seems 
utterly  absurd;  unless,  indeed,  there  was  some 
thing  else  concealed  in  the  box." 

"What?" 

The  Prefect  laughed.    "I  cannot  imagine.     But 


62  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

if  you  can  identify  the  man,  we  shall  no  doubt  find 
out.  As  for  the  matter  of  Alphonse  Valentin, 
we  have  already  had  him  under  observation.  So 
far  as  we  can  learn,  he  is  merely  a  chauffeur,  out 
of  work,  who  seems  to  be  somewhat  in  love  with 
the  nurse." 

"Then  his  actions  have  not  been  suspicious, 
during  the  past  week?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  He  has  hung  around  the 
Stapleton  house  for  several  days,  asking  for  news 
of  the  Lanahan  woman;  but  that  is  all.  We  at 
tribute  his  actions  to  a  natural  anxiety  over  her 
illness." 

Grace  left  the  house,  by  no  means  satisfied  with 
the  progress  she  was  making.  Her  interview  with 
Mary  Lanahan,  and  subsequent  visit  to  the  scene 
of  the  crime,  told  her  nothing  she  had  not  already 
known.  Her  greatest  disappointment,  however, 
came  when  she  had  Mrs.  Stapleton  bring  in 
Frangois,  ostensibly  to  question  him  about  his  part 
in  the  affair.  She  saw  at  once  that  he  was  not 
the  man  who  had  broken  into  Alphonse  Valentin's 
room  on  the  night  before.  This  man  had  been 
heavily  bearded  and  tall.  Francois  was  smooth 
shaved  and  rather  short.  Mrs.  Stapleton  assured 
her  that  none  of  her  servants  resembled  in  the 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  63 

least  her  description  of  the  burglar.  She  left  the 
house,  greatly  dissatisfied,  after  satisfying  her 
self  that  this  was  the  case. 

Her  visit  to  the  house  of  Alphonse  Valentin 
that  afternoon  was  productive  of  no  greater  re 
sults.  The  man  was  out.  The  woman  who 
opened  the  door — the  same  one  who  had  ad 
mitted  her  the  previous  evening — regarded  her 
with  ill-concealed  suspicion,  and  informed  her 
that  she  had  no  idea  when  her  lodger  would  re 
turn.  Grace  left,  determined  to  try  again  the 
following  day. 

Throughout  the  whole  evening  she  hung  about 
the  Stapleton  house,  hoping  again  to  see  the  man 
with  the  heavy  beard  who  had  disappeared  within 
the  night  before;  but  he  did  not  put  in  an  ap 
pearance.  Grace  began  to  feel  discouraged. 
She  thought  of  her  lilac  bushes,  at  home,  of  Aunt 
Lucy  feeding  the  chickens,  of  the  dogs,  the  sweet 
call  cf  the  wood  robins  among  the  poplar  trees 
on  the  lawn,  and  half  wished  that  she  had  stayed 
at  home  and  left  to  Richard  the  apparently  hope 
less  task  of  finding  the  abductors  of  little  Jack 
Stapleton. 

What,  after  all,  could  she  hope  to  do,  where 
the  entire  police  force  of  Paris  had  failed?  The 


64  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

thing  was  absurd.  Monsieur  Lefevre  had  over 
rated  her  abilities.  She  heard  the  sound  of  church 
bells,  striking  the  hour  of  ten,  and  decided  to  go 
home  and  forget  the  whole  affair  until  tomor 
row.  Tomorrow — the  day  Richard  must  arrive ! 
How  she  longed  to  be  with  him!  This  stupid  in 
terruption  of  their  honeymoon  seemed  peculiarly 
cruel,  now  that  over  a  week  had  elapsed  since 
they  had  seen  each  other.  She  wondered  if  she 
would  meet  him,  the  next  day.  Then  she  thought 
of  her  changed  appearance,  of  her  hair,  dyed  a 
jet  black,  and  worn  in  a  new  and  to  her  mind 
unbecoming  fashion,  of  her  darkened  complexion, 
her  extremely  French  costume,  her  heavy  veil, 
and  laughed.  If  Richard  did  see  her,  here  in 
Paris,  when  he  fully  believed  her  to  be  peacefully 
tending  her  flower  beds  at  home,  he  would  never 

believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses. 

* 

She  was  strolling  toward  the  Champs  Elysees, 
lost  in  thought,  when  suddenly  she  heard  the  soft 
throbbing  of  a  high-powered  motor  car,  as  it 
came  up  the  street  behind  her.  She  turned  and 
glanced  toward  it;  but  the  brilliant  glare  of  the 
electric  headlights  blinded  her.  She  could  see 
nothing,  except  that  the  car  was  moving  very 
slowly. 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  65 

Suddenly  it  stopped,  almost  abreast  of  her,  and 
a  tall  man  leaped  to  the  sidewalk.  Before  she 
had  an  opportunity  so  much  as  to  glance  in  his 
direction,  he  came  swiftly  up  behind  her,  threw 
his  arm  about  her  neck,  and  choked  her  into  un 
consciousness.  Her  last  sensation  was  of  being 
lifted  bodily  into  the  already  moving  car,  and 
then  the  feeling  of  rapid  motion,  quickly  blotted 
out  by  the  coming  of  insensibility. 

When  she  returned  to  consciousness,  it  was 
broad  daylight.  She  lay  upon  a  small  wooden 
bed,  in  a  low-ceilinged  little  room,  the  only  fur 
niture  of  which  was  a  small  chest  of  drawers  and 
a  chair.  Upon  this  chair  sat  a  large  man,  his 
face  so  thoroughly  hidden  by  a  mask  that  his 
features  were  quite  unrecognizable.  He  was  re 
garding  her  with  keen  scrutiny. 

"Oh — what — where  am  I?"  she  gasped. 

The  man  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  slowly 
spoke.  "Where  you  are,  mademoiselle,  is  of  no 
importance.  Attend  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

Grace  made  no  reply.  There  seemed  nothing 
that  she  could  say.  She  sat  up  and  gazed  at  the 
man,  half  dazed.  Her  head  swam.  She  felt 
that  she  had  been  drugged. 

"Ten  days  ago,"  the  man  went  on,  in  a  cold 


66  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

and  menacing  voice,  "the  child  of  Monsieur 
Stapleton  was  taken  from  his  nurse  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne.  You  are  trying  to  find  that  child." 

"But — "     Grace  made  a  movement  of  protest. 

"It  is  useless  to  deny  it.  Youhavebeenwatched." 

Grace  gasped  in  silence. 

"I  desire  to  send  a  message  to  the  boy's  father, 
and  I  have  chosen  you  to  take  it  to  him.  I  have 
selected  you,  because  to  send  one  of  my  own  men 
would  doubtless  result  in  his  arrest.  That  is  why 
you  have  been  brought  here." 

"The — the  child  is  safe?"  asked  Grace. 

"Perfectly.  You  shall  see  for  yourself."  He 
motioned  to  the  window. 

Grace  rose,  and  looked  out.  The  view 
comprised  a  bit  of  garden,  surrounded  by 
bushes.  She  could  see  nothing  beyond — nothing 
that  would  enable  her  in  any  way  to  identify 
the  place.  On  the  tiny  plat  of  grass  in  the 
garden  sat  a  child — a  little  girl,  playing  with 
a  small  black  and  white  spaniel.  Her  dark  hair 
was  drawn  tightly  beneath  a  pink  sunbonnet.  Her 
dress,  her  whole  appearance,  was  that  of  a  peasant 
child. 

Grace  turned  from  the  window,  bewildered. 
"I  see  nothing,"  she  said,  "except  a  little  girl — " 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  67 

"That  is  the  child  of  Monsieur  Stapleton,"  the 
man  said.  "Now  attend  to  the  message." 

She  sat  down  again,  wondering. 

"Tell  the  boy's  father  this:  He  will  leave  his 
house  tomorrow  evening,  in  his  automobile,  at 
eight  o'clock.  He  will  bring  with  him,  in  a 
package,  the  sum  of  five  hundred  thousand  francs 
— one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  will  have 
with  him,  in  the  automobile,  no  one  but  himself 
and  his  chauffeur.  He  will  leave  Paris  by  the 
Porte  de  Versailles,  and  drive  along  the  road  to 
Versailles  at  a  speed  of  twelve  miles  an  hour. 
Somewhere  upon  that  road,  among  the  many  au 
tomobiles  that  will  pass  him,  will  be  one,  from 
which  a  blue  light  will  flash,  as  it  approaches  him. 
It  will  also  slow  up.  He  will  toss  the  package 
of  bank  notes  into  that  car,  and  drive  on.  If  the 
package  contains  the  sum  of  five  hundred  thou 
sand  francs,  he  will  find  his  child  at  his  house, 
upon  his  return.  If  not,  or  if  these  instructions 
are  not  carried  out  to  the  letter — if  there  is  any 
attempt  made  at  pursuit — the  child  will  not  be 
there,  and  you  can  tell  him  that  he  will  be  given 
but  one  more  chance.  After  that,  the  boy  will  die." 

The  man  in  the  mask  made  this  gruesome 
statement  with  the  utmost  coolness. 


68  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Grace  listened,  aghast  at  the  cruelty  of  his 
words,  and  at  the  same  time  struck  by  the  extreme 
ingenuity  of  the  plan.  To  catch  the  peq^etrators 
of  the  crime,  under  these  circumstances,  seemed 
impossible.  A  rapidly  moving  automobile — one 
of  a  hundred.  An  instant's  flash  of  a  blue  light 
in  passing — the  tossing  into  the  car  of  the  money 
— and  it  would  speed  away  into  the  darkness,  be 
yond  any  hope  of  detection.  Should  Mr.  Stapleton 
have  others  in  his  car — should  he  have  his  car 
followed  by  a  second,  containing  armed  men,  the 
occupants  of  the  kidnapper's  machine  would  no 
doubt  refuse  to  give  the  signal,  and  nothing  would 
be  accomplished.  It  would  be  impracticable  to 
line  the  road,  for  a  possible  distance  of  twenty 
miles,  with  gendarmes,  nor  could  their  presence 
accomplish  anything,  beyond  putting  the  kidnap 
pers  on  guard,  and  preventing  the  carrying  out 
of  the  plan. 

The  weakest  point  in  the  whole  scheme  seemed, 
to  Grace  at  least,  the  delivery  of  the  child  to  Mr. 
Stapleton,  provided  he  paid  the  money  demanded. 
Just  how  that  was  to  be  accomplished,  without 
subjecting  the  person  who  brought  the  boy  to 
arrest,  she  did  not  see.  A  moment's  reflection, 
however,  showed  her  that  a  stranger  might  be 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  69 

employed,  at  any  point,  who  for  a  few  francs 
would  agree  to  take  the  child  to  the  house.  She 
turned  to  the  man  before  her  with  feelings  not 
devoid  of  admiration. 

"How  can  Mr.  Stapleton  know  that  you  will 
do  as  you  say?" 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "That  Is  a 
chance  he  must  take.  If  he  does  not  believe  that 
the  child  will  be  delivered  to  him,  provided  he 
pays  the  money,  he  had  better  not  pay  it.  But 
if  he  does  his  part,  I  shall  do  mine — and  this  I 
swear  by  the  memory  of  my  mother!" 

Grace  shuddered.  A  wretch  of  this  sort,  talk 
ing  about  the  memory  of  his  mother!  "Very 
wrell,"  she  said  quietly,  "I  will  take  your  mes 
sage." 

"Good!  You  will  not  leave  here,  of  course, 
until  it  is  dark — tonight.  You  will  be  blindfolded, 
and  conducted  to  some  point  in  the  city.  From 
there,  you  can  make  your  way  to  Monsieur  Staple- 
ton's  house."  He  rose,  and  went  toward  the 
door.  "Make  no  attempt  to  escape.  It  will  be 
useless.  Any  attempts  on  the  part  of  the  police 
to  interfere  with  the  plan  I  have  outlined  will 
result  in  nothing.  Food  will  be  sent  in  to  you  at 
once.  Good  morning." 


70  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

It  was  close  to  ten  o'clock  that  night,  as  nearly 
as  Grace  could  judge,  when  she  was  led  a  con 
siderable  distance  blindfolded,  to  a  closed  auto 
mobile,  and  driven  away.  She  could  form  no  idea 
of  her  whereabouts.  The  car  continued  on  its 
way,  for  over  an  hour.  Once  she  attempted  to 
snatch  the  bandage  from  her  eyes;  but  a  hand 
was  placed  upon  her  arm  by  another  occupant  of 
the  machine,  and  a  low  voice  warned  (her  to 
desist. 

After  an  interminable  ride,  the  car  suddenly 
stopped,  and  she  felt  the  man  at  her  side  slip 
away  from  her  and  open  the  door.  Instantly  she 
snatched  the  bandage  from  her  eyes.  The  man 
had  disappeared.  She  stepped  to  the  sidewalk, 
and  looked  about.  She  was  standing  upon  a 
brightly  lighted  street,  which  seemed  somehow 
familiar  to  her.  The  man  on  the  box  of  the 
cab  glanced  down  at  her  with  a  look  of  curious 
interest.  She  saw  his  face  clearly,  in  the  light  of 
the  street.  It  was  the  heavily  bearded  man  whom 
she  had  seen  take  the  box  of  cigarettes  from  the 
room  of  Alphonse  Valentin  two  nights  before. 

Grace  stood  with  the  bandage  which  had  en 
circled  her  eyes,  still  in  one  hand.  Suddenly  she 
saw  a  dark  figure  uncoil  itself  from  the  rear  of 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  71 

the  car,  and  drop  noiselessly  to  the  pavement  as 
the  machine  started  off.  She  gave  a  low  cry  of 
surprise.  The  man  came  up  to  her,  a  grim  smile 
upon  his  face.  It  was  Alphonse  Valentin. 


CHAPTER  V 

JOHN  STAPLETON,  the  millionaire  banker, 
accompanied  by  Richard  Duvall,  arrived  in 
Paris  early  in  the   afternoon,   and  went  at 
once  to  the  former's  house  in  the  Avenue  Kleber. 

Upon  their  arrival,  Duvall  waited  for  some 
time,  while  the  distressed  husband  and  wife  were 
closeted  together  upstairs.  At  last  they  descended 
to  the  library,  and  Duvall  was  presented  to  Mrs. 
Stapleton. 

The  joy  which  her  husband's  arrival  had  caused 
her  sent  a  new  glow  of  hope  to  her  careworn 
cheeks,  and  she  greeted  the  detective  most  cor 
dially.  Clearly  she  felt  that  now  something  would 
at  last  be  done,  to  find  her  missing  child. 

Duvall's  first  questions  related  to  Mary  Lana- 
han,  the  nurse.  He  was  relieved  to  find  that  she 
had  quite  recovered  from  her  sudden  illness. 

"Will  you  kindly  have  her  brought  here,  Mrs. 
Stapleton?"  he  asked.  "I  would  like  to  question 
her." 

72 


THE ,  BLUE  LIGHTS  73 

In  a  few  moments  the  nurse  appeared.  She 
was  an  extremely  good-looking  girl,  smart  and 
well  dressed.  Duvall  recognized  in  her  frank 
face,  her  clear  blue  eyes,  the  same  appearance  of 
honesty  which  had  impressed  him  during  his  in 
terview  with  Patrick  Lanahan,  her  father. 

"Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Stapleton,  "this  is  Mr. 
Duvall.  He  is  trying  to  find  Jack  for  us.  Tell 
him  your  story." 

The  girl  turned  to  Duvall,  who  had  risen.  "I 
can  hardly  expect  you  to  believe  what  I  am  going 
to  say,  Mr.  Duvall,  yet  I  assure  you  that  it  is 
the  solemn  truth." 

"Go  ahead,  Miss  Lanahan,"  said  the  detective. 
"I  am  prepared  to  believe  whatever  you  may 
say." 

The  girl  sat  down,  at  Mrs.  Stapleton's  request. 
She  still  was  somewhat  weak,  from  her  recent  ill 
ness. 

"It  was  a  week  ago  last  Wednesday.  I  left 
the  house  with  Master  Jack  at  half-past  ten,  and 
we  drove  to  the  Bois." 

"Just  a  moment,  please."  Duvall  stopped  her 
with  a  quick  gesture.  How  long  had  you  been 
going  to  the  Bois  in  this  way?" 

"Over  six  weeks." 


74  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

"And  you  always  left  about  the  same  time — > 
half-past  ten?" 

"Always." 

"Who  accompanied  you  besides  the  child?" 

"Frangois — the  chauffeur." 

"Always?" 

"Yes." 

Duvall  turned  to  Mrs.  Stapleton.  "How 
long  has  this  man  Frangois  been  in  your  em 
ploy?" 

"A  year — in  June." 

"You  have  found  him  honest,  reliable?" 

"Always.  Otherwise  I  should  not  have  kept 
him." 

The  detective  turned  to  Mary  Lanahan.  "Go 
ahead,  please,"  he  said. 

"We  reached  the  Bois  shortly  before  eleven 
— Frangois  had  orders  to  go  slowly,  when  Master 
Jack  was  in  the  machine — and  drove  about  for 
fifteen  minutes.  Then  we  stopped  at  the  place 
where  we  were  in  the  habit  of  playing." 

"Was  it  always  the  same  place?" 

"Yes.  There  is  a  smooth  field  of  grass  there, 
and  a  clump  of  trees  by  the  road,  where  the  ma 
chine  always  waited." 

"Go  on." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  75 

"We  left  the  car,  and  walked  out  over  the 
grass.  Master  Jack  had  a  big  rubber  ball,  and 
he  was  kicking  it  along,  and  running  after  it. 
Sometimes  he  would  kick  it  to  me,  and  I  would 
throw  it  back  to  him.  We  played  about  in  that 
way  for  over  half  an  hour.  Mrs.  Stapleton 
wished  the  boy  to  have  the  exercise." 

"I  see.  And  you  generally  played  about  in 
the  same  place?" 

"Yes." 

"How  far  from  the  road?" 

"About  three  hundred  feet." 

"And  from  the  nearest  bushes,  or  woods?" 

"A  little  more  than  that,  I  should  say." 

"You  could  see  Francois,  in  the  machine,  from 
where  you  were?" 

"Yes,  I  could  see  the  machine.  I  could  not 
always  see  Francois;  for  sometimes  he  would  get 
out,  and  walk  about,  or  sit  under  the  trees  and 
smoke  a  cigarette." 

"Do  you  remember  noticing  him,  on  this  par 
ticular  morning?" 

"Yes.     I  saw  him  sitting  in  the  machine." 

"What  was  he  doing?" 

"Reading  a  newspaper." 

"Had  he  ever  done  that  before?" 


76  THE   BLUE  LIGHTS 

The  girl  hesitated,  as  though  a  new  idea  had 
come  to  her.  "No — I  cannot  remember  that  he 
ever  had." 

"Very  well.     Go  ahead  with  your  story." 

"Well — after  we  had  played  for  about  half 
an  hour — I  got  tired  and  sat  down  on  the  grass. 
Master  Jack  still  kept  playing  about  with  the  ball. 
I  sat  idly,  looking  at  the  sky,  the  road — dream- 
ing—" 

"About  what?"  interrupted  the  detective,  sud 
denly. 

The  girl  colored.  "About — about  some  people 
I  know." 

"Go  ahead." 

"I  heard  the  boy  playing,  behind  me.  Then 
I  looked  around — and — he  was  gone!"  The 
nurse  made  this  statement  in  a  voice  so  full  of 
awe  that  it  carried  conviction  to  her  hearers. 
Duvall  felt  that,  whatever  the  real  facts  of  the 
disappearance  of  the  child,  this  woman's  story 
was  true. 

"What  did  you  do  then?" 

"I  stood  up  and  looked  about.  I  thought  Mas 
ter  Jack  was  hiding  from  me — playing  a  joke  on 
me.  Then  I  realized  that  there  was  no  place  that 
he  could  hide.  The  nearest  trees  were  too  far 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  77 

off.  He  could  not  have  reached  them.  I  called 
and  called.  I  was  very  much  frightened." 

"Frangois,  who  heard  me,  came  running  over 
the  grass.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Master 
Jack.  He  said,  no,  that  he  had  not  seen  any 
one.  After  that  we  searched  everywhere — in  the 
woods,  along  the  road — for  nearly  an  hour,  but 
could  find  nothing.  Then  we  came  home,  and 
told  Mrs.  Stapleton."  The  girl  looked  at  her 
employers  in  fright. 

"What  about  the  rubber  ball?"  Duvall  asked, 
suddenly. 

"It — it  was  gone." 

"Then  it  is  clear  that  the  child  must  have  been 
taken  away  peaceably,  without  objection  on  his 
part.  Had  he  struggled,  cried,  he  would  have 
dropped  the  ball,  would  he  not?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"How  long  was  your  head  turned  from  him — 
while  you  were — dreaming?" 

"About  a  minute." 

"Not  more?" 

"No." 

"How  do  you  estimate  the  time  so  closely?" 

"I'm  sure  it  could  not  have  been  longer.  A 
minute  is  quite  a  long  time." 


78  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"What  time  was  it  when  you  got  back  to  the 
house?" 

"About — about  one  o'clock,  I  think."  The  girl 
turned  to  Mrs.  Stapleton  for  confirmation  of  her 
answer. 

"It  was  a  quarter-past  one,"  said  Mrs.  Staple- 
ton,  promptly.  "I  noted  the  time  particularly,  be 
cause  it  was  later  than  usual.  Mary  had  orders 
to  bring  Jack  back  for  luncheon  not  later  than 
one." 

Duvall  began  to  make  some  figures  on  a  piece 
of  paper.  "You  fix  the  time  of  the  boy's  disap 
pearance  at  11.30.  You  say  you  hunted  for  him 
an  hour.  That  would  be  12.30."  He  looked  at 
the  girl  searchingly.  "You  arrived  home  at  1.15. 
That  would  mean  that  it  took  45  minutes  to 
get  here."  He  turned  to  Stapleton.  "Please 
send  for  your  chauffeur,  Francois." 

Mr.  Stapleton  rang  a  bell,  and  ordered  the 
servant  who  responded  to  send  in  the  chauffeur. 
Meanwhile  Mary  Lanahan  was  regarding  Duvall 
with  nervous  apprehension. 

"We  must  have  hunted  for  him  longer  than  I 
thought,"  she  said,  at  length. 

Duvall  made  no  reply,  but  waited  until  the  ar 
rival  of  the  chauffeur.  He  proved  to  be  a  short, 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  79 

heavily  built  man,  with  long  powerful  arms,  and 
a  swarthy  face — evidently  from  the  south  of 
France.  His  countenance  was  stolid  and  emotion 
less.  He  appeared  the  well  trained  servant. 

Duvall  addressed  him  at  once.  "How  long 
would  it  take  you,  my  man,  driving  fast,  to  reach 
this  house  from  the  spot  in  the  Bois  where  Mas 
ter  Jack  was  lost?" 

The  man  responded  at  once.  "Ten  minutes," 
he  said,  "easily." 

"What  time  was  it  when  this  woman,"  the 
detective  indicated  the  nurse,  "called  to  you,  on 
discovering  that  the  child  was  gone?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Have  you  no  idea?" 

"It  must  have  been  about  twelve  o'clock.  We 
hunted  for  the  boy  till  about  one — then  came 
home." 

"The  nurse  says  it  was  half-past  eleven." 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It  may 
have  been.  I  did  not  observe  the  time." 

"What  were  you  doing?" 

"I  was  asleep." 

Mr.  Stapleton  started.  "Asleep?"  he  de 
manded,  angrily. 

The  man  nodded.     "The  day  was  warm.     I 


80  ^THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

had  nothing  to  do.  For  a  time  I  read  the  paper. 
I  must  have  dozed  in  my  seat;  for,  the  next  thing 
I  knew,  the  nurse  was  calling  to  me,  and  the  boy 
was  gone." 

Duvall  frowned.  "Then  you  could  not  say 
whether  anyone  else  was  near  the  nurse  and  the 
boy,  at  the  time  he  was  kidnapped?" 

"No,  monsieur.     I  could  not." 

"That  will  do."  The  detective  turned  to  Mr. 
Stapleton.  "Have  your  man  drive  us  to  the 
place  where  all  this  occurred." 

The  banker  gave  the  man  the  order,  and  he 
left  the  room.  Then  Duvall  turned  again  to 
Mary  Lanahan. 

"You  were  taken  suddenly  ill  one  day  last  week. 
Tell  us  about  it." 

The  woman  looked  up.  "It  was  very  mysteri 
ous,  sir.  I  went  out  for  a  walk.  At  a  cafe  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore  I  had  a  cup  of  chocolate." 

"Alone?"  asked  the  detective,  sharply. 

The  woman  colored.  "No,"  she  faltered.  "I 
— I  was  with  a  friend." 

"Who?" 

"A — a  gentleman  I  know."  She  glanced  fear 
fully  at  Mr.  Stapleton.  "I — I  would  rather  not 
give  his  name." 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  81 

"Was  it  Alphonse  Valentin?"  asked  Duvall, 
quickly. 

The  woman  colored  still  more  deeply.  "Yes," 
she  replied,  in  scarcely  audible  tones. 

The  banker  regarded  her  in  surprise.  "Al 
phonse  Valentin!"  he  cried.  "The  fellow  I  dis 
charged  last  year,  for  dishonesty?  Mr.  Duvall 
— he's  your  man!" 

"No — no!"  exclaimed  the  nurse,  excitedly. 
"He  knows  nothing  of  the  matter — nothing!" 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  remarked  Duvall, 
slowly.  "Where  did  you  meet  this  fellow,  Val 
entin?" 

"At  the  cafe  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore." 

"You  had  met  him  there  frequently  be 
fore?" 

"Yes." 

"After  you  left  the  cafe,  what  did  you 
do?" 

^ 

"We  walked  to  the  Champs  Elysees  and  sat 

on  a  bench,  talking.    Suddenly  I  felt  very  ill.    Mr. 

Valentin  called  a  cab  and  sent  me  home." 
"Give  me  the  address  of  this  cafe,  please." 
The  woman  did  so.     As  Duvall  was  entering 

it  in  his  notebook,  a  servant  announced  that  the 

automobile  was  at  the  door. 


82  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

In  fifteen  minutes  the  party,  consisting  of  Mr. 
Stapleton,  Duvall,  and  Mary  Lanahan,  were  leav 
ing  the  car  at  the  spot  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne 
which  had  been  the  scene  of  the  kidnapping. 
Frangois  was  ordered  to  drive  his  machine  to  the 
exact  spot,  as  nearly  as  he  could  tell,  that  it  had 
occupied  on  the  previous  occasion.  Mary  Lana 
han  led  the  others  to  the  place  on  the  grass  where 
she  had  sat. 

It  was  evident  at  once  that  the  distances  she 
had  named  in  telling  her  story  were  less,  if  any 
thing,  than  the  actual  facts.  It  was  quite  im 
possible  to  see  how,  in  any  way,  the  child  could 
have  been  taken  from  the  spot  she  indicated,  to 
the  woods,  without  consuming  a  considerable 
period  of  time — five  minutes,  at  least.  To  be 
lieve  that  the  nurse  could  have  turned  away  her 
head  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked  around  to 
find  the  boy  gone  seemed  the  sheerest  fabric  of 
the  imagination;  yet  the  woman,  in  repeating  her 
story,  stuck  to  it  with  a  grim  pertinacity  which, 
it  seemed,  could  come  only  from  the  knowledge 
that  she  was  telling  the  truth. 

Ten  days  had  elapsed  since  the  boy  had  been 
kidnapped.  It  seemed  almost  useless  to  search 
the  spot  for  any  evidences  of  the  crime.  Yet 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  83 

Duvall  began  to  go  over  the  ground  where  the 
nurse  testified  that  she  had  sat,  with  the  most 
minute  care.  Inch  by  inch,  he  examined  the  turf, 
subjecting  almost  every  blade  of  grass  to  a  sepa 
rate  examination.  The  operation  required  over 
half  an  hour,  and  both  Mr.  Stapleton  and  the 
nurse  grew  tired  of  watching  him,  and  strolled 
about  aimlessly. 

Hence  they  did  not  see  him  pick  up  a  tiny  ob 
ject  from  the  grass.  It  was  a  half-smoked  cigar 
ette,  dirty  and  almost  falling  to  pieces  from  the 
action  of  the  weather,  yet  held  together  by  a 
slender  tip  of  gold. 

He  placed  it  carefully  within  his  pocketbook, 
and  rose.  "Nothing  more  to  be  done  here,"  he 
called  to  Mr.  Stapleton,  and  in  a  moment  the 
three  were  proceeding  toward  the  waiting  auto 
mobile. 

Upon  the  return  to  the  house,  Mr.  Stapleton 
drew  the  detective  into  his  library.  "Have  you 
discovered  anything,  Mr.  Duvall?"  he  inquired, 
making  an  effort  to  conceal  his  almost  frantic 
anxiety. 

"I  do  not  know — yet.  I  may  have  a  clue;  but 
I  am  not  sure." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  woman's  story?" 


84  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

"It  seems  impossible  to  believe  it." 

"You  think,  then,  that  she  had  a  hand  in  the 
matter — she  and  this  fellow  Valentin?" 

"It  begins  to  look  like  it." 

"On  what  do  you  base  your  conclusions,  Mr. 
Duvall?  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that 
Mary  Lanahan  is  lying,  ready  as  I  am  to  sus 
pect  this  fellow  Valentin." 

"First,  Mr.  Stapleton,  on  the  facts  themselves. 
The  boy  could  not  have  been  taken  away  with 
out  her  knowledge.  Secondly,  upon  some  minor 
matters — her  error  of  half  an  hour,  in  telling  her 
story,  for  instance." 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Duvall,  but  I  cannot  believe 
that  you  are  right.  I'd  suspect  Valentin,  at  once; 
but  if  Mary  Lanahan  is  not  telling  the  truth, 
then  my  experience  of  twenty  years  in  judging 
human  nature  has  been  wasted." 

"Yet  you  yourself  heard  her  admit  that  she  was 
with  Valentin  only  last  Friday,  the  day  she  was 
taken  ill." 

"Yes.  That  is  true."  Mr.  Stapleton  passed 
his  hand  uncertainly  across  his  forehead.  "It's 
too  much  for  me." 

"Let  me  have  a  word  with  the  nurse,  alone, 
before  I  go,"  asked  Duvall. 


85 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  banker.  "I'll  send  her 
in  to  you." 

When  Mary  Lanahan  entered  the  room,  the 
detective  went  up  to  her  and  eyed  her  sternly. 
"Was  Alphonse  Valentin  with  you  at  any  time, 
in  the  Bois,  that  day?" 

"No,"  replied  the  girl,  steadily. 

"Does  he  smoke  gold-tipped  cigarettes?"  asked 
Duvall,  suddenly. 

The  effect  of  this  question  upon  the  nurse  was 
startling.  She  recoiled  as  though  the  detective 
had  struck  her.  "He — he  does  not  smoke  at  all," 
she  gasped,  her  face  gray  with  fear. 

"Don't  lie  to  me!" 

"He  does  not  smoke  at  all,"  repeated  the  girl, 
almost  mechanically,  and  stood  confronting  him 
with  a  defiant  air. 

"Very  well.  That  is  all."  The  detective 
turned  from  the  room  and  left  the  house. 

He  did  not,  however,  go  very  far.  It  was 
rapidly  becoming  dark.  He  passed  down  the 
street  until  he  judged  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the 
house,  then  slowly  retraced  his  steps  upon  the 
other  side,  until  he  had  reached  a  point  nearly 
opposite  the  small  iron  gateway  which  served  as 
the  servants'  entrance  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house. 


86  THE   BLUE  LIGHTS 

Here,  hidden  behind  a  tree,  he  watched  for  per 
haps  half  an  hour. 

At  the  expiration  of  this  period,  he  was  re 
warded  by  seeing  a  young  man,  evidently  an 
under  servant,  emerge  from  the  gateway.  Du- 
vall  watched  him  as  he  proceeded  down  the 
street,  then  began  to  follow  him. 

The  young  man  seemed  in  no  great  hurry,  and 
at  the  junction  of  the  avenue  with  the  Champs 
Elysees,  Duvall  accosted  him,  speaking  in 
French. 

"Do  you  want  to  earn  twenty  francs,  my 
friend?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 

The  boy  regarded  him  with  a  quizzical  smile. 
"Who  does  not,  Monsieur?"  he  replied. 

"Let  me  see  the  note  you  have  in  your  hand." 

The  boy  drew  back  suddenly,  and  made  as 
though  to  thrust  the  letter  into  his  pocket.  "It 
is  impossible,  Monsieur,"  he  began. 

Duvall  took  out  a  gold  twenty-franc  piece.  "I 
intend  to  have  the  letter,  my  man.  If  you  will 
give  it  to  me  peaceably,  here  are  the  twenty  francs ; 
if  not,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  take  it  from  you  by 
force." 

The  boy  regarded  the  detective  for  a  moment, 
as  though  contemplating  flight.  Duvall  seized 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  87 

him  by  the  collar.  "Give  me  the  note,"  he  cried, 
"or  I'll  call  a  gendarme  and  have  you  placed 
under  arrest!" 

The  boy  allowed  the  letter  to  drop  to  the  pave 
ment,  seized  the  twenty-franc  piece,  and  took  to 
his  heels. 

Duvall  picked  it  up.  As  he  had  expected,  it 
was  addressed  to  Alphonse  Valentin, Boule 
vard  St.  Michel.  He  had  waited,  on  the  chance 
that  Mary  Lanahan  would  lose  no  time  in  warn 
ing  her  probable  confederate. 

The  letter  gave  him  the  man's  address.  That 
was  so  much  accomplished,  at  least.  Then  he  tore 
it  open,  and  read  the  contents.  They  proved  more 
mystifying  than  anything  that  he  had  yet  en 
countered  in  this  mysterious  affair. 

"Destroy  the  cigarettes!"  These  three  words 
comprised  the  entire  contents  of  the  note. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LPHONSE  VALENTIN  came  up  to 
Grace  and  took  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 
"Come  with  me,"  he  said,  and  started 
up  the  street. 

At  first  she  felt  inclined  to  resist  him.  A  sig 
nal  to  a  passing  gendarme,  and  she  could  have 
had  the  man  placed  under  arrest.  Monsieur  Le- 
fevre  had  taken  care  to  provide  her  with  creden 
tials  that  would  insure  her  obtaining  instant  as 
sistance  from  any  member  of  the  police. 

Then  another  thought  came  to  her.  This  man 
Valentin  she  very  much  desired  to  see.  His  po 
sition,  clinging  to  the  rear  of  the  automobile, 
indicated  that  he  was  in  all  probability  not  a 
confederate  of  the  kidnappers.  Just  what  he 
was,  she  could  not  imagine.  She  determined  to 
go  along  with  him,  and  hear  what  he  had  to 
say. 

A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  them  to  the  man's 

88 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  89 

lodgings.  For  some  reason,  which  she  did  not 
understand,  the  automobile  in  which  she  had  been 
a  prisoner  had  stopped  on  the  Boulevard  St. 
Michel  within  a  short  distance  of  Valentin's 
rooms. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Valentin,  in 
stead  of  opening  the  door  with  a  key,  rang  the 
bell.  The  woman  who  had  previously  admitted 
Grace  came  to  the  door.  Valentin  nodded. 

"Is  this  the  woman?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  landlady,  recognizing  her  at 
once.  "This  is  the  one." 

"Good!"  Valentin  closed  the  door  and  led 
the  way  to  his  room.  Grace  followed,  wondering 
what  the  man  intended  to  do. 

"Why  have  you  come  here  twice  during  the 
past  two  days?"  he  asked,  abruptly,  after  he  had 
lit  the  lamp  and  carefully  shut  the  door. 

Grace  determined  to  be  quite  frank  with  him. 
"I  wanted  to  ask  you  some  questions,  Monsieur 
Valentin,"  she  replied. 

"Ha!    You  know  my  name?" 

"Certainly." 

He  appeared  somewhat  uneasy.  "What  are 
you  up  to?" 

"I  am  trying  to  find  Mr.  Stapleton's  child." 


QO  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

A  queer  smile  came  over  the  fellow's  face.  "Is 
that  why  you  stole  the  cigarettes?"  he  asked. 

"I  did  not  steal  them.  They  were  taken  by  a 
man  with  a  black  beard,  who  came  in  through 
the  window  when  I  was  here." 

"A  black  beard?"  He  smiled  incredulously. 
"And  you  let  him  take  them." 

"Yes.  Why  not?  Were  they  of  such  great 
value?" 

He  glanced  about  uneasily,  but  did  not  reply 
to  her  question.  "Who  was  the  man?"  he  pres 
ently  asked. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  followed  him.  He  entered 
Mr.  Stapleton's  house." 

"Sacre!     It  must  have  been  Francois!" 

"Hardly.     Frangois  has  no  beard." 

"But  he  might  have  been  disguised."  He 
seemed  very  much  perturbed.  "What  a  pity  I 
was  so  careless!" 

"Monsieur  Valentin,  will  you  please  tell  me 
what  those  cigarettes  have  to  do  with  the  kid 
napping  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  child?" 

He  looked  at  her  closely  for  a  moment. 
"Everything,"  he  answered  gloomily,  "and — 
nothing.  I  was  a  fool  to  have  left  them 
here." 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  91 

Grace  began  to  feel  more  and  more  composed. 
This  man  did  not  talk  like  one  of  the  band  of 
criminals.  uDo  you  know  where  the  child  is?" 
she  suddenly  asked. 

"Perhaps."  He  observed  her  narrowly.  "Do 
you?" 

"No.  If  I  did,  I  should  restore  him  to  his 
poor  mother." 

"What  were  you  doing  in  that  automobile  ?" 

"I  was  a  prisoner.     And  you?" 

Again  he  evaded  her  question.  "It  is  my  own 
affair,"  he  growled. 

"Did  you  not  see  who  it  was  that  drove  the 
car?"  she  asked. 

Instead  of  replying,  he  flung  himself  into  a 
chair.  "Sit  down,  Mademoiselle,  and  tell  me  the 
whole  story.  If  I  find  that  you  are  frank  with 
me,  I  promise  to  be  equally  so  with  you." 

Suddenly  Grace  felt  an  intuition  that  the  man 
was  honest.  She  determined  to  do  as  he  asked. 
"Very  well.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  I  am  try 
ing  to  recover  Mr.  Stapleton's  child.  Last  night 
I  was  watching  the  house.  I  was  seized  from 
behind,  thrown  into  an  automobile,  and  taken — 
I  do  not  know  where.  This  morning  a  message 
to  Mr.  Stapleton  was  given  me.  Tonight  I  was 


92  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

brought    here,    blindfolded,    in    an    automobile. 
Then  I  met  you.    That  is  all  I  know." 

Valentin  appeared  disappointed.      "Then  you 
do  not  know  where  the  child  is?"  he  asked. 
"The  child  is  where  I  was — I  saw  it." 
As  Grace  said  this,  her  companion  leaped  ex 
citedly  from  his  chair.     "Then  we  have  them!" 
he  cried. 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"Mademoiselle,   this  evening   I   was  watching 
Monsieur  Stapleton's  house.     Like  yourself,  I  de 
sire  to  recover  the  child.     I  saw  Frangois  leave  in 
Monsieur  Stapleton's  automobile.     I  climbed  in 
behind,  as  he  left  the  house.     It  was  dark.     He 
did  not  see  me.    He  drove  out  toward  Versailles." 
"Toward  Versailles?"  exclaimed  Grace. 
"Yes.     Why  do  you  seem  so  surprised." 
"Never  mind.     Go  on." 

"After  a  time,  he  stopped  by  the  roadside.  I 
got  out,  and  hid  in  the  shadow  of  some  trees. 
Presently  you  were  brought,  blindfolded,  by  a 
man,  who  entered  the  car  with  you.  When  it 
again  started,  I  climbed  on  behind.  That  is  how 
I  came  to  meet  you." 

"Then  you  don't  know  where  the  house  is,  from 
which  I  was  brought?" 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  93 

"No.  There  are  many  houses — all  about. 
There  was  no  way  of  knowing,  in  the  dark.  Did 
you  come  far — when  they  brought  you  to  the  au 
tomobile?" 

"Yes.  Several  hundred  yards,  at  least.  But 
you  know  the  spot,  on  the  roadside?" 

"Yes.     I  can  find  it,  without  difficulty." 

"Monsieur  Valentin,  I  have  a  plan — a  very 
dangerous  plan — for  recovering  Mr.  Stapleton's 
boy.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  is  now.  Tomor 
row  I  will  tell  you — tomorrow  afternoon.  I  shall 
want  your  assistance." 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Can  you  drive  an  automobile?" 

The  man  smiled.  "Decidedly.  It  is  my  pro 
fession." 

"Splendid!  You  will  wait  for  me  here,  and  I 
will  come,  and  tell  you  what  you  are  to  do.  I 
shall  arrive  not  later  than  six  o'clock."  She  rose. 
"Now  I  must  go;  but  before  I  do  so,  tell  me  one 
thing.  What  is  the  mystery  of  the  gold-tipped 
cigarettes?" 

Her  question  seemed  to  drive  from  Valentin's 
face  all  the  good  nature  that  had  dwelt  there  the 
moment  before.  "I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  he 
growled.  "You  must  not  ask  me.  Let  me  advise 


94:  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

you  to  drop  the  matter  of  the  cigarettes,  and 
report  your  message  to  Mr.  Stapleton  at  once." 

For  a  moment,  Grace  almost  regretted  her 
frankness.  Suppose,  after  all,  he  should  prove 
to  be  but  a  confederate  of  the  kidnappers,  in 
league  with  Mary  Lanahan,  the  nurse,  to  spirit 
the  boy  away  in  the  first  place,  and  now  sent  by 
them,  in  the  guise  of  a  spy  clinging  to  the  rear  of 
the  automobile,  to  find  out  what  step  she  pro 
posed  to  take  to  capture  them?  She  paused  in 
indecision.  Suddenly  there  was  a  tapping  upon 
the  door  of  the  room. 

Valentin  went  to  the  door  and  cautiously  opened 
it.  The  landlady  stood  on  the  landing  outside. 
"There  is  a  man  to  see  you,  at  the  door  below, 
Monsieur,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"I  do  not  know.  He  gives  the  name  of  Victor 
Girard." 

"Very  well.     Send  him  up." 

Grace  heard  the  name — Victor  Girard.  A 
sudden  wave  of  weakness  swept  over  her.  It  was 
Richard!  Fie  had  used  the  name  frequently,  in 
the  past.  She  heard  him  ascending  the  short  flight 
of  stairs.  There  was  no  escape.  Yet  Monsieur 
Lefevre  particularly  insisted  that  he  should  not 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  95 

recognize  her.  She  hastily  drew  down  her  veil. 
"Get  rid  of  him  as  soon  as  you  can,"  she  whis 
pered  to  Valentin,  and  shrunk  back  into  the 
shadow. 

Duvall  came  in,  glancing  sharply  about  him. 
He  had  been  waiting  to  see  Valentin  since  early 
in  the  evening,  and  had  inquired  for  him  twice 
before,  only  to  find  that  he  was  out. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur?"  inquired 
Valentin. 

The  detective  drew  the  note  from  his  pocket 
— the  note  which  Mary  Lanahan  had  sent  to  Val 
entin,  and  which  Duvall  had  intercepted.  "This 
is  for  you,  Monsieur?"  he  asked,  then  suddenly 
paused,  astounded.  In  the  dim  light,  he  caught 
sight  of  Grace,  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  room,  watching  him  closely.  "I — I  thought 
— Monsieur — I  thought  you  were  alone,"  he 
gasped,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Grace  as  though  he  had 
seen  a  ghost.  "I — I  beg  your  pardon,  but — " 
He  was  unable  to  proceed. 

Valentin  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "What 
is  it,  my  friend?"  he  asked  sharply.  "Tell  me 
your  business,  if  you  please,  and  go.  I  have  a 
visitor." 

"Yes — Monsieur — so — so     I     see."      Duvall 


96  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

pulled  himself  together  with  a  mighty  effort  and 
turned  his  glance  to  Valentin.  He  had  suffered 
a  great  shock.  For  a  moment  he  would  have 
been  ready  to  swear  that  Grace,  his  dear  wife, 
stood  before  him  in  the  flesh — and  yet  the  thing 
was  an  absurdity:  Grace,  with  her  golden 
brown  hair,  her  clear  complexion,  was  three 
thousand  miles  away!  This  woman,  dark,  typi 
cally  French,  was  quite  evidently  an  entirely  dif 
ferent  person;  yet  the  resemblance  was  start 
ling — he  felt  himself  shaking  in  every  fiber. 

"Well,  Monsieur,  give  me  the  letter,  since  you 
say  it  is  for  me,"  he  heard  Valentin  saying. 

In  an  instant  he  had  recovered  his  self  posses 
sion.  "Here,"  he  exclaimed,  handing  the  note  to 
the  man  before  him.  "It  is  from  Mary  Lana- 
han.  I  have  read  it." 

"You  have  read  it,  Monsieur!"  Valentin  ex 
claimed,  angrily.  "By  what  right,  then,  do  you 
presume  to  read  my  letters?"  He  took  the  note 
and  hurriedly  read  its  contents.  "Sacre!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "What  does  this  mean?" 

"It  means,  my  friend,  that  I  want  that  box  of 
gold-tipped  cigarettes." 

Grace  started.  So  Richard,  too,  was  inter 
ested  in  the  recovery  of  these  mysterious  cigar- 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  97 

ettes.  What  on  earth,  she  wondered,  could  it 
mean? 

"In  the  first  place,  Monsieur,  let  me  inform  you 
that  I  have  no  cigarettes,  gold-tipped  or  other 
wise.  In  the  second  place,  I  question  your  right 
to  make  any  such  demands." 

"Does  not  the  note  from  Mary  Lanahan  re 
quest  you  to  destroy  them?" 

Valentin  turned  pale.  "I  tell  you  I  have  no 
such  cigarettes!"  he  cried. 

"Are  they  not  the  sort,  then,  that  you  usually 
smoke?" 

"I  do  not  smoke  at  all,  Monsieur." 

Duvall  laughed.  "So  you  both  tell  the  same 
story,  it  seems.  My  friend,  I  dislike  to  discuss 
these  matters  before  a  stranger."  He  glanced 
significantly  at  Grace. 

She  dared  not  go.  To  speak — even  to  bid 
Valentin  good  evening,  would,  she  felt  sure,  be 
tray  her.  So  she  remained  silent. 

"Then  take  yourself  off.  I  certainly  have  no 
desire  to  discuss  them.  I  tell  you,  I  do  not  smoke 
— I  have  no  cigarettes — that  is  enough!" 

"What  does  that  note  mean,  then?"  asked 
Duvall  sternly. 

"That  is  Miss  Lanahan's  affair — and  mine." 


98  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

Duvall  drew  out  his  pocketbook,  and  extracted 
from  it  the  bit  of  cigarette  stump,  with  the  gold 
tip,  which  he  had  found  that  morning  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne.  "Monsieur  Valentin,"  he  said,  "I 
found  this  end  of  a  cigarette  at  the  exact  place  in 
the  grass,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  where  Mr. 
Stapleton's  child  and  nurse  were,  when  the  boy 
was  stolen.  The  chauffeur  was  asleep.  You  could 
readily  have  walked  up,  taken  away  the  child, 
and  no  one  would  have  been  the  wiser.  The 
story  of  Mary  Lanahan,  that  no  one  came  near 
her,  that  the  boy  disappeared  into  thin  air,  is 
absurd.  The  presence  of  the  half-smoked  cigar 
ette,  of  a  kind  which  I  have  reason  to  believe 
you  use,  convinces  me  that  you  were  there  in  the 
Bois,  with  the  nurse,  at  the  time  of  the  kidnap 
ping — if  indeed  you  did  not  take  an  active  part 
in  it.  The  message  from  Mary  Lanahan,  which 
I  have  just  handed  you,  directing  you  to  destroy 
the  cigarettes, — which,  no  doubt,  she  feared,  after 
my  questioning,  might  be  used  as  evidence  against 
you, — serves  as  strong  additional  proof.  I  be 
lieve  that  you  know  where  Mr.  Stapleton's  child 
is." 

The  statements  which  her  husband  made  con 
vinced  Grace  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in  con- 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  99 

fiding  in  Valentin.  She  herself  had  seen  the  gold- 
tipped  cigarettes  on  his  table — had  seen  them 
stolen.  It  was  not  very  conclusive  evidence,  she 
realized;  but,  taken  with  the  nurse's  letter,  it  was 
significant. 

Valentin,  however,  did  not  appear  to  be  greatly 
alarmed  by  the  detective's  charges.  "You  are  mis 
taken,  Monsieur,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  know  noth 
ing  about  the  affair." 

"Then  what  does  this  note  mean?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you.  And,  if  you  have  any 
other  questions  to  ask,  I  beg  that  you  will  come 
again — at  another  time.  I,  as  you  see,  am  en 
gaged  for  the  moment."  He  indicated  Grace 
with  a  glance. 

Duvall  looked  about,  then  turned  to  the  door. 
His  object  in  coming  had  been  fulfilled.  He  had 
seen  Valentin — located  him — he  hoped  frightened 
him.  It  was  one  of  his  theories  that  a  man, 
frightened  by  the  knowledge  that  he  is  being 
closely  pursued,  is  far  more  likely  to  make  a  false 
step,  than  one  who  fancies  himself  secure. 

He  darted  a  curious  glance  at  Grace,  as  he  left 
the  room;  but  her  face,  concealed  in  the  shadow, 
told  him  nothing.  Her  silent  presence  filled  him 
with  strange  disquietude.  He  stationed  himself 


100  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

outside  the  doorway  of  the  house,  determined 
to  learn,  if  possible,  who  she  was,  by  following 
her,  when  she  left  the  place.  He  had  not  counted 
on  Valentin's  being  with  her. 

The  two  left  the  house  together,  and  the  man 
at  once  called  a  cab.  Into  this  he  put  Grace, 
all  the  while  eying  Duvall  savagely.  The  latter 
gave  up  all  ideas  of  pursuing  Grace,  and  returned, 
somewhat  disgruntled,  to  his  hotel.  He  had 
barely  reached  it,  when  a  message  was  brought 
to  him,  summoning  him  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house. 

Grace,  meanwhile,  had  driven  at  once  to  the 
banker's,  and  delivered  to  him  the  message  with 
which  she  had  been  intrusted  by  the  man  in  the 
black  mask  that  morning. 

Mr.  Stapleton's  face  grew  more  and  more 
angry  as  she  proceeded  with  her  story.  He 
jumped  up,  as  soon  as  he  learned  the  purport 
of  it,  and,  ringing  up  Duvall's  hotel,  requested  the 
detective  to  come  to  him  at  once.  Then  he  turned 
to  Grace. 

uYou  have  no  idea  where  this  place  is  located?" 

"Not  the  slightest." 

"You  say  you  saw  my  boy?    He  was  safe?" 

"I  saw  a  child,  which  I  was  told  was  yours, 
Mr.  Stapleton.  I  did  not  recognize  him,  of 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  101 

course.  You  know  I  have  never  seen  your  son. 
Also,  he  was  dressed  as  a  girl." 

Mr.  Stapleton  produced  a  photograph  with 
nervous  haste.  "Was  he  like  this?"  he  de 
manded. 

"Yes.  It  was  the  same."  There  was  sufficient 
resemblance,  even  in  the  disguise  the  boy  wore, 
for  Grace  to  be  practically  certain  of  his 
identity. 

"How  am  I  to  know  that  these  scoundrels  will 
keep  their  word?"  Mr.  Stapleton  groaned,  his 
head  on  his  hands. 

"Do  you  intend,  then,  to  give  them  the 
money?" 

"Certainly.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  take  any 
chances,  for  the  matter  of  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars — or  twice  as  much,  for  that  matter? 
His  mother  and  I  are  unable  to  sleep,  to  eat, 
to  do  anything  in  fact,  under  the  strain  of  this 
thing.  I  shall  by  all  means  do  as  they  ask." 

"But  they  will  get  away." 

"That  is  nothing  to  me.  Let  them.  Once  my 
boy  is  safe,  I  can  spend  another  hundred  thousand 
to  catch  them;  but  not  now — when  one  false  step 
might  mean 'his  death." 

"They  won't  harm  him,  Mr.  Stapleton.     They 


102  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

are  too  anxious  for  the  money,  to  let  anything 
happen  to  him." 

"I'll  take  no  chances." 

Grace  rose.  "Then  I  might  as  well  be  going/' 
she  said.  "I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  anything 
more.  I  shall  report  the  matter  to  the  Prefect: 
of  Police  at  once." 

"Very  well.  And  be  good  enough  to  say  to 
him  that  I  particularly  desire  that  no  steps  be 
taken  to  prevent  the  carrying  out  of  the  plan. 
I  shall  pay  this  money  and  regain  my  boy.  After 
that,  the  police  may  do  as  they  like.  Good  even- 
ing." 

"Good  evening."  Grace  left  the  house,  feeling 
singularly  disappointed,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Stapleton's  decision  apparently  meant  that 
Richard's  work  in  Paris,  as  well  as  her  own,  was 
likely  to  be  brought  to  a  sudden  termination. 

As  she  was  leaving  the  house,  she  saw  Richard 
drive  up  in  a  cab.  The  sight  of  him  filled  her 
with  joy;  although  she  was  forced  to  conceal  it, 
and  pass  him  by  with  a  look  of  indifference.  In 
the  darkness,  she  knew  she  was  safe.  He  recog 
nized  her  of  course, — recognized  her,  that  is,  as 
the  woman  he  had  seen  in  Valentin's  room, — 
and  her  presence  here  at  Mr.  Stapleton's  house 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  103 

evidently  filled  him  with  surprise.  For  a  moment, 
she  thought  he  was  about  to  speak  to  her,  as  he 
descended  from  his  cab;  but  she  turned  away 
and  hurried  down  the  street,  and  when  she  looked 
back,  he  had  entered  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MR.  STAPLETON  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  library,  when  Duvall  en 
tered.  He  turned  to  him  excitedly. 

"Mr.  Duvall,"  he  said,  "I  have  just  heard  news 
that  I  hope  will  restore  my  boy  to  me  within  the 
next  twenty-four  hours!" 

"From  the  woman  who  just  left  the  house?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"An  agent  of  the  police." 

"Ah!   Are  you  certain  of  that?" 

"I  know  only  what  she  says." 

Duvall  looked  at  him  curiously.  "What  is  the 
news  she  has  brought  you?" 

"A  message  from  the  scoundrels  who  have 
stolen  the  child.  They  want  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  to  return  him." 

"And  she  brought  you  that  message?" 

"Yes."  The  banker  regarded  his  questioner 
uneasily. 

104 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  105 

"Does  it  not  seem  rather  singular,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton,  that  a  member  of  the  Paris  police  should 
come  to  you  with  a  message  from  the  kidnap 
pers?" 

Mr.  Stapleton  frowned.  "I  had  not  considered 
that  aspect  of  the  case,  Mr.  Duvall.  I  was — 
and  am — too  anxious  to  get  my  boy  back,  to  care 
by  whom  these  fellows  deliver  their  terms." 

"What  was  the  message,  Mr.  Stapleton?" 

"I  am  to  drive  along  the  road  to  Versailles 
tomorrow  evening,  leaving  here  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  moving  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour. 
Somewhere  on  that  road,  an  automobile  in  pass 
ing  will  signal  me  with  a  blue  light.  I  am  then 
to  slow  up  and  toss  into  the  other  machine  a 
package  containing  one  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars.  If  I  do  this,  and  make  no  attempt  to  follow 
or  capture  the  rascals,  they  agree  to  deliver  the 
child  here — at  my  house — by  the  time  I  return 
home." 

Duvall  listened  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  words  with 
growing  interest.  "They  are  a  shrewd  lot,"  he 
exclaimed.  "They  will  get  away  in  their  machine, 
and  have  ample  opportunity  to  examine  the  pack 
age  to  see  that  it  contains  the  amount  they  de 
mand.  By  signaling  to  confederates  at  any  point 


106  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

along  the  road,  or  in  another  automobile,  they 
can  advise  them  whether  or  not  to  return  the 
child." 

"But  how  will  they  be  able  to  do  this,  with 
out  running  the  risk  of  being  caught?" 

"That  is  easy.  They  take  the  boy  to  Paris, 
employ  a  passerby — a  man  of  their  own  class,  no 
doubt — for  a  few  francs,  to  deliver  him  at  your 
door.  To  trace  them,  through  that  means,  will 
be  impossible.  If  you  give  them  the  money,  the 
chances  are  that  they  will  never  be  caught." 

"Nevertheless,  I  shall  give  it  to  them." 

"I  expected  that,  Mr.  Stapleton.  I  can  un 
derstand  your  feelings.  It  is  not  right,  of  course, 
to  submit  to  this  blackmail;  but  no  doubt,  were  I 
situated  as  you  are,  I  would  do  the  same  thing. 
Still,  it  is  a  great  pity." 

"Why?" 

"Because  we  have  an  excellent  chance  to  cap 
ture  these  fellows." 

"And  lose  the  boy!" 

"Yes,  that  might  be  true.  Such  men  are  apt 
to  retaliate  very  promptly,  and  very  severely. 
They  have  no  pity.  I  wish  I  might  handle  the 
case  to  suit  myself." 

"What  would  you  do?" 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  1C7 

"I  would  arrange  to  follow  you,  in  a  fast  car, 
keeping  say  five  hundred  feet  in  the  rear.  I 
should  have  several  men,  well  armed,  in  the 
car.  By  watching  carefully,  with  field  glasses  if 
necessary,  I  would  observe  the  car  which  sig 
naled  you  with  the  blue  light.  When  this  car 
passed  me,  I  would  follow,  but  make  no  move 
which  would  alarm  the  kidnappers  until  they  had 
given  the  signal — whatever  it  is — that  would  en 
sure  your  boy  being  returned  to  you.  Then  I 
would  close  in  on  them,  and  arrest  them." 

"Your  plan,  Mr.  Duvall,  is  open  to  serious 
objections.  Suppose  these  men,  undoubtedly  on 
the  watch,  observe  that  they  are  being  followed. 
They  will  give  no  signal — and  I  will  lose  not  only 
my  child,  but  the  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
as  well.  No,  no,  I  want  no  interference  in  the 
matter  whatever." 

Duvall  remained  a  moment  in  silence.  "Very 
well,  Mr.  Stapleton,  I  am  under  your  orders,  of 
course.  But  I  dislike  very  much  to  see  these 
fellows  get  away." 

"So  do  I;  but  there's  no  help  for  it." 

"If  I  can  work  out  a  plan  for  their  capture, 
which  will  not  involve  the  loss  of  the  boy,  you 
are  willing,  I  take  it,  to  let  me  go  ahead?" 


108  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"Yes;  but  I  insist  that  you  first  submit  the 
plan  to  me." 

"Very  well.  And  now,  another  matter.  This 
woman  who  brought  the  message  to  you  is,  you 
say,  an  agent  of  the  police.  Did  she  attempt  to 
explain  how  she  came  by  the  message?" 

"Yes.  She  was  forcibly  abducted,  last  night, 
carried  a  long  distance  out  into  the  country,  and 
the  instructions  given  her.  She  was  brought  back 
to  Paris,  blindfolded,  tonight." 

"Mr.  Stapleton,  what  would  you  say  were  I  to 
tell  you  that  less  than  an  hour  ago  I  saw  this 
woman  in  the  rooms  of  Alphonse  Valentin,  a  man 
whom  I  suspect  to  be  very  deeply  concerned  in  the 
kidnapping  of  your  son?" 

Stapleton  started.  "Is  it  possible?"  he  said. 
"Have  you  any  idea  what  she  was  doing 
there?"  " 

"No.  They  seemed  on  excellent  terms,  how 
ever.  Of  course,  it  is  not  impossible  that  an 
agent  of  the  police  might  pose  as  a  friend  of  one 
of  the  criminals,  and  thus  obtain  information. 
But  it  looks  decidedly  queer." 

"It  does,  indeed.  Still,  as  I  said  before,  if  I 
get  my  boy  back,  I  shall  be  satisfied."  He  took 
a  turn  about  the  room,  chewing  nervously  upon 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  109 

his  long  black  cigar.  "Now,  Mr.  Duvall,  what 
is  your  plan  to  capture  these  fellows?" 

Duvall  sat  in  deep  thought  for  sometime. 
"It  is  not  an  easy  matter,  Mr.  Stapleton,  but 
there  is  one  way  which  promises  success,  and  that, 
too,  without  interfering  with  your  arrangements 
to  recover  your  boy." 

"What  is  it?" 

"This.  It  is  necessary  for  us,  in  some  way. 
to  identify  the  car  which  gives  you  the  signal  of 
the  blue  light.  It  will  pass  close  to  you,  at  a 
moderate  speed.  I  want  you  to  mark  that  car, 
so  that  it  may  be  recognized  at  once." 

"How  can  I  do  that?" 

"I  will  place  in  the  bottom  of  your  machine 
a  small  device,  consisting  of  a  rubber  bulb, 
equipped  with  a  small  nozzle,  projecting  through 
a  hole  in  the  body  of  the  car.  The  bulb  will  be 
filled  with  indelible  red  stain.  When  you  stand 
up,  to  toss  the  package  of  money  to  the  kid 
nappers,  you  must  press  this  bulb  with  your  foot. 
The  two  cars  will  then  be  side  by  side.  The 
pressure  on  the  bulb  will  discharge  a  blast  of  the 
red  stain  against  the  body  and  wheels  of  the  car 
opposite  you.  It  will  then  be  a  simple  matter  to 
identify  it." 


110  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"Yes — yes.     I  see  that.     But  what  then?" 

"The  car,  in  passing  you,  will  be  headed  for 
Paris.  Undoubtedly  it  is  the  intention  of  these 
fellows  to  enter  the  city.  I  shall  station  myself 
at  the  Porte  de  Versailles,  and  I  will  arrange  to 
have  other  men,  members  of  the  detective  bu 
reau,  stationed  at  the  neighboring  gates  in  the 
fortifications.  All  cars  entering  the  city  will  be 
momentarily  halted.  The  one  which  bears  upon 
its  body  or  wheels  the  red  stain  will  be  seized, 
its  occupants  arrested." 

"But  suppose  they  have  not  yet  notified  their 
confederates  to  return  the  boy  to  me?" 

"In  that  event,  I  feel  certain  that  the  child 
will  be  found  in  the  automobile  with  them.  Look 
at  the  thing  as  you  would,  were  you  in  their 
place.  They  are  forced  to  act  with  great  quick 
ness.  Were  they  to  signal,  by  lights  or  otherwise, 
to  persons  along  the  road,  they  could  hardly  hope 
to  get  the  boy  to  your  house  before  you  yourself 
return  there.  They  know  you  will  return  home 
immediately  at  your  best  speed  as  soon  as  you 
have  delivered  the  money  to  them.  What  more 
likely,  then,  that  they  will  have  the  boy  with 
them  in  the  car,  will  drive  to  some  prearranged 
point  in  Paris,  and  deliver  him  to  the  person  who 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  111 

will  bring  him  to  your  house?  That  would  seem, 
to  my  mind,  their  most  probable  plan." 

"And  if  not — if  the  child  is  not  with  them?" 

"Then  there  are  but  two  courses  open  to  them. 
The  first  is  to  signal,  by  lights  or  otherwise,  to 
their  confederates,  before  they  enter  Paris.  If 
they  do  this,  the  boy  will  be  returned  to  you, 
and  we  will  capture  the  men  as  well.  The  only 
other  alternative,  of  course,  is  for  them  to  notify 
their  confederates  after  they  enter  Paris." 

"But,  if  you  arrest  him  at  the  barrier,  they 
cannot  do  that,  and  my  boy  will  not  be  sent 
back." 

"That  is  true ;  but  I  do  not  think  they  will 
wait  to  notify  their  confederates  until  after  they 
enter  Paris." 

"Why  not,  Mr.  Duvall?" 

"First,  because  of  the  danger  of  being  'ob 
served,  in  the  crowded  streets  of  the  city.  Sec 
ondly,  because  I  do  not  think  the  child  is  in  Paris 
at  all.  The  woman  who  brought  you  the  mes 
sage  from  the  kidnappers,  I  understand,  saw  the 
child  at  a  point  some  distance  in  the  country. 
It  seems  unlikely  that  these  men  would  run  the 
risk  of  conveying  the  child  into  the  city,  in  broad 
daylight.  By  having  the  boy  with  them  in  the 


112  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

car,  they  avoid  all  danger  of  signaling  anybody. 
They  merely  inspect  the  package  of  money,  run 
into  Paris,  fully  believing  themselves  for  the  time 
being  safe,  drop  the  child  at  a  convenient  point, 
divide  the  plunder,  and  scatter  to  their  respective 
hiding  places.  Criminals  of  this  sort  know  per 
fectly  well  that  they  are  far  safer,  hiding  in  a 
big  city,  than  fleeing  through  the  country  in  an 
automobile.  I  feel  scarcely  any  doubt  that  they 
have  the  child  with  them." 

"But  if  he  is  still  in  the  country,  and  they  waij 
until  after  they  are  in  Paris  before  notifying 
their  confederates?" 

"Then  the  latter  are  obliged  to  journey  a  long 
distance  out  into  the  country,  get  the  child,  and 
bring  him  back  to  your  house.  That  would  re 
quire  a  considerable  period.  They  could  not  pos 
sibly  do  it  before  you  return  home." 

Mr.  Stapleton  considered  the  matter  for  a  long 
time  in  silence.  "Your  arguments  seem  sound, 
Mr.  Duvall,"  he  presently  observed.  "Like  your 
self,  I  am  anxious  to  capture  these  fellows.  It 
makes  my  blood  boil,  to  think  of  their  getting 
away.  Of  course,  your  deductions  may  be 
wrong." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  113 

"Then  at  least  we  will  get  the  perpetrators  of 
the  crime,  and  it  is  most  likely  that  one  of  them, 
at  least,  may  be  persuaded  to  turn  state's  evi 
dence,  and  disclose  the  whereabouts  of  your 
son." 

Mr.  Stapleton  pondered  the  matter  with  great 
care.  Evidently  he  feared  any  course  of  action 
which  did  not  insure  the  return  of  the  child. 

"It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Stapleton,"  the  detec 
tive  went  on,  "that  you  owe  it  to  the  public  to 
let  me  make  this  effort  to  capture  these  fellows. 
It  is  a  grave  danger  to  the  community,  to  have 
such  rogues  at  large.  Let  me  try  my  plan.  Even 
if  it  fails,  you  are  no  worse  off  than  you  are 
now.  The  attempt  cannot  in  any  way  be  traced 
to  you." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  banker,  nervously.  "It 
is  a  chance — that's  all.  However,  since  it  seems 
to  involve  no  breach  of  faith  on  my  part,  I  am 
willing  to  take  it." 

"Good!  I  will  bring  the  device  I  spoke  of  to 
your  house  tomorrow,  and  attach  it  to  your  car. 
Your  man  Frangois  will  drive  you,  I  presume." 

"Yes." 

"You  trust  him?" 


114  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

"I  have  no  reasons  for  not  doing  so.  And  be 
sides  he  will  know  nothing  of  the  affair.  His 
part  will  be  merely  to  drive  the  car,  as  I  direct 
him." 

Duvall  thought  for  a  moment.  "You  will  not, 
of  course,  give  him  his  instructions  until  the  last 
moment — just  before  you  start." 

"No.    That  will  be  best,  I  think." 

"Undoubtedly.  And  to  avoid  any  possible  in 
terference,  I  think  I  had  better  not  attach  the 
identifying  device  of  which  I  have  spoken  to  your 
car  until  late  tomorrow  afternoon,  immediately 
before  you  set  out.  Then,  if  by  any  chance  your 
chauffeur  is  in  this  plot,  he  will  have  no  oppor 
tunity  to  give  a  warning." 

"Very  well.  I  think,  however,  that  your  pre 
cautions  are  needless.  There  has  been  nothing 
whatever  brought  out  to  connect  Francois  with 
this  matter." 

"I  know;  but  it  is  well  to  be  careful.  You 
will  leave  here  tomorrow  evening,  at  eight 
o'clock?" 

"Yes.     Promptly  at  eight." 

"You  might  do  well  to  have  someone  with 
you,  some  member  of  the  police,  perhaps." 

"The  instructions  expressly  forbid  it." 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  115 

"Ah — I  see.  These  fellows  are  shrewd."  He 
took  up  his  hat.  "Until  tomorrow  then.  Good 
night." 

"Good  night." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AT  the  same  hour  that  Richard  Duvall  was 
arranging  with  Mr.  Stapleton  his  plan  for 
the  capture  of  the  kidnappers  the  fol 
lowing  day,  Grace  was  closeted  with  Monsieur 
Lefevre,  the  Prefect  of  Police,  in  the  latter's 
library,  going  over  the  affair  in  all  its  details. 
The  Prefect  was  speaking,  ticking  off  on  his  fin 
gers  the  points  in  the  case  as  he  proceeded. 

"First,  we  have  the  impossible  story  of  the 
nurse,  Mary  Lanahan.  She  seems  to  be  telling 
the  truth ;  yet  I  believe  she  is  lying.  In  my  opinion, 
she  is  deeply  concerned  in  the  whole  matter." 

"But  what  about  the  attempt  to  poison  her?" 

"It  is  highly  probable  that  she  poisoned  herself, 
taking  a  slight  dose  only.  This  would  divert 
suspicion  from  her." 

"I  see." 

"Then  we  have  the  case  of  Alphonse  Valentin, 
and  the  mysterious  gold-tipped  cigarettes.  Your 

116 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  117 

husband,  Monsieur  Duvall,  I  am  informed,  has 
found  one  of  these  cigarettes,  partly  smoked,  on 
the  grass  at  the  scene  of  the  crime.  This  might 
indicate  that  Valentin  was  there,  with  her,  on 
some  occasion,  but  not  necessarily  on  the  day  the 
kidnapping  occurred.  It  might  readily  have  been 
the  day  before — or  the  week  before,  for  that 
matter." 

"I  thought  of  that,"  remarked  Grace,  quietly. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  Richard  attached  too  much 
importance  to  the  matter." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen.  Now,  supposing 
Valentin  to  be  concerned,  with  the  nurse,  in  the 
plot.  He  of  course  does  not  think,  at  the  start, 
that  the  possession  of  the  cigarettes  would  in 
volve  him  in  the  affair,  because  he  does  not  know 
that  Monsieur  Duvall  has  found  the  one  in  the 
grass.  Your  husband,  however,  asks  Mary  Lana- 
han  what  kind  of  cigarettes  Valentin  smokes.  She 
at  once  becomes  suspicious,  and  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity  warns  Valentin,  by  letter,  to  destroy  them. 
That  shows  clearly  that  they  are  working  to 
gether." 

"Undoubtedly.  But  meanwhile  the  cigarettes 
are  stolen  from  Valentin's  room  by  a  man  with 
a  dark  beard,  who  subsequently  enters  Mr.  Staple- 


118  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

ton's  house.  For  that,  I  confess,  I  can  find  no 
explanation." 

"Nor  I.  The  destruction  of  the  cigarettes 
could  be  of  no  importance  to  anyone,  except  to 
the  kidnappers  themselves.  It  is  of  course  pos 
sible  that  someone  else  in  Mr.  Stapleton's  house 
— Francois,  for  instance — is  concerned  in  the 
plot." 

"But  the  man  who  took  the  cigarettes  had  a 
black  beard,  while  Frangois  is  smooth  shaven." 

"I  know.  But  it  might  have  been  a  dis 
guise." 

"I  do  not  think  so.  The  man  I  saw  was  taller 
than  Frangois,  and  not  so  heavily  built." 

The  Prefect  considered  the  matter  for  a  mo 
ment.  "You  are  certain  that  he  entered  the 
Stapleton's  house?" 

"Absolutely  certain.  I  saw  the  gate  close  be 
hind  him." 

"Then  I  can  only  say  that,  so  far,  the  matter 
is  inexplicable.  Now  let  us  come  back  to  Val 
entin.  He  claims  to  be  working  to  capture  the 
kidnappers — in  order  to  clear  the  nurse,  whom 
he  loves." 

"That  is  as  I  understand  it." 

"Fie  denies  that  he  smokes,  yet  offers  no  ex- 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  119 

planation  of  the  presence  of  the  cigarettes  in  his 
room." 

"None.  Further,  someone  sends  a  note  to 
Valentin,  advising  him  that  the  writer  is  sus 
picious  of  Francois — suggesting  that  he  watch 
him.  Can  this  mean  that  Frangois  is  in  the  plot, 
and  they  fear  he  may  be  weakening — preparing 
to  turn  against  them?" 

"It  certainly  looks  that  way." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  one  of  these  famous  cigar. 
ettes." 

Grace  laughed  suddenly.  "Why,"  she  ex* 
claimed,  "I  have  one  in  my  pocketbook.  I  had 
quite  forgotten  it."  She  opened  her  purse  and 
took  out  the  slender  white  cylinder. 

Lefevre  examined  the  thing  closely.  "An 
Egyptian  cigarette  of  American  make,"  he  mused. 
"Expensive,  here  in  Paris,  and  rarely  used,  ex 
cept  by  Americans." 

"That  is  true;  yet  I  understand  that  this  man 
Valentin  has  lived  a  great  deal  in  America." 

For  a  moment  the  Prefect  did  not  reply.  Then 
a  puzzled  look  crossed  his  face.  "This  is  a 
woman's  cigarette,"  he  exclaimed.  "No  man 
would  smoke  such  a  thing."  He  brought  his 
hand  down  sharply  upon  his  knee.  "My  girl, 


120  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

it  is  not  impossible  that  the  child  was  stolen  not 
by  a  man  at  all,  but  by  a  woman." 

"A  woman,  apparently,  that  both  Valentin  and 
the  nurse  are  trying  to  shield." 

The  Prefect  sat  for  a  moment  buried  in 
thought.  Then  he  glanced  at  Grace  keenly.  "It 
seems  to  me,"  he  remarked,  in  a  quiet  tone,  "that 
we  should  endeavor  to  determine  whether  or  not 
Mrs.  Stapleton  is  in  the  habit  of  using  cigarettes." 

"Mrs.  Stapleton!"  gasped  Grace,  in  amaze 
ment. 

"Yes.  I  confess  the  idea  is  a  new  one,  to  me; 
but  it  may  prove  of  interest." 

"But  why  should  the  boy's  mother  wish  to 
kidnap  him?" 

"I  do  not  know.  There  is  but  one  point  of 
significance.  During  the  past  week  my  men  have, 
naturally,  questioned  Mrs.  Stapleton  closely  as 
to  her  movements  during  the  past  two  or  three 
months.  They  did  this,  to  determine,  if  possible, 
whether  the  criminals  were  of  Paris,  or  from 
some  other  place,  where  Mrs.  Stapleton  may  have 
been,  with  the  child,  during  the  past  winter.  You 
know  these  fellows  work  in  bands,  and  have  their 
regular  field  of  operations." 

"I  see.    And  where  had  she  been?" 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  121 

"Monte  Carlo!"  The  Prefect  uttered  the  two 
words  significantly. 

Grace  was  quick  to  grasp  his  meaning. 

"Then  you  mean  that  possibly  Mrs.  Stapleton 
may  have  lost  large  sums  at  the  gambling  tables, 
and,  fearing  to  tell  her  husband  of  her  losses, 
has  enlisted  the  services  of  the  nurse,  and  of  her 
friend  Valentin,  and  spirited  the  child  away  for  a 
few  weeks,  in  order  to  get  the  sum  of  one  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  from  her  husband  without 
his  knowledge?" 

"It  is  by  no  means  impossible.  I  would  recom 
mend  that  you  investigate  the  matter  thoroughly. 
If  we  find  that  Mrs.  Stapleton  uses  gold-tipped 
cigarettes  of  this  variety,  it  may  go  far  toward 
a  solution  of  the  whole  affair." 

Grace,  remembering  Mrs.  Stapleton's  grief- 
stricken  appearance,  felt  that  the  clue  was  a  very 
slender  one,  but  determined  to  follow  it  up,  never 
theless. 

"Now,"  went  on  the  Prefect,  "we  come  to  the 
sudden  and  most  unexpected  appearance  of  Val 
entin,  clinging  to  the  rear  of  the  automobile  that 
brought  you  back  to  Paris  tonight." 

"As  I  have  told  you,  he  claims  to  have  clam 
bered  into  Mr.  Stapleton's  car." 


122  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"Driven  by  Frangois?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  say  the  man  who  drove  the  car  had 
a  black  beard — the  same  man,  in  fact,  who  broke 
into  Valentin's  room  and  stole  the  cigarettes?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  either  Valentin  is  lying,  or  the  man  with 
the  black  beard  is  Francois.  Let  us  look  at  his 
story  from  both  sides.  If  he  is  telling  the  truth, 
then  Frangois  is  one  of  the  kidnappers." 

"So  it  would  seem.  You  are  having  him 
watched,  you  say?" 

"Yes.  My  men  report  that  he  did  leave  the 
house,  in  Mr.  Stapleton's  automobile  tonight,  at 
about  nine  o'clock.  That  would  seem  to  agree 
with  Valentin's  story.  They  also  report  that  he 
returned  about  eleven,  alone." 

"They  did  not  follow  him?" 

"No.  It  is  impossible  to  do  so,  in  another  car, 
without  arousing  his  suspicion,  and  putting  him 
on  his  guard.  We  do  not  wish  him  to  know  that 
he  is  being  watched." 

"But  Mr.  Stapleton  must  know  where  he  has 
been — why  the  car  was  out." 

"Yes.  We  have  questioned  him.  He  says  the 
man  reported  that  the  gasolene  tank  was  leak- 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  123 

ing,  and  that  he  ordered  him  to  have  it  repaired 
at  once." 

"And  was  it  repaired?" 

The  Prefect  smiled.  "Yes.  The  car  was  at 
a  garage  in  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel  from  half 
past  nine  until  half  past  ten." 

Grace  fell  back,  astonished.  "Then  Valentin 
is  lying!"  she  cried. 

"So  it  seems;  unless,  of  course,  Francois  took 
out  another  car  from  the  garage,  while  his  own 
was  being  fixed." 

"They  would  know  that  at  the  garage." 

"They  deny  it.  But  these  fellows  all  hang  to 
gether.  They  would  think  nothing  of  protecting 
a  brother  chauffeur,  in  the  matter  of  a  little  joy 
ride." 

"Valentin  says  nothing  about  this,  in  his 
story." 

"He  may  have  omitted  it,  as  an  unimportant 
detail.  I  mean  that  he  may  have  slipped  into  the 
second  car,  as  he  did  into  the  first,  without  being 
observed.  It  was  dark  of  course.  He  may  not 
have  thought  it  necessary  to  mention  it.  All  this, 
of  course,  is  on  the  assumption  that  he  is  telling 
the  truth.  Now  let  us  say  that  he  is  lying — 
that  the  man  with  the  black  beard  is  not  Francois, 


124  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

but  someone  else  concerned,  with  Valentin  in  the 
plot.  What  is  the  purpose  of  his  tale?" 

"I  cannot  imagine.    Can  you,  Monsieur?" 

"No,  not  immediately.  The  first  contradic 
tion,  of  course,  is  this.  If  Valentin  and  the  man 
with  the  black  beard  are  working  together,  why 
should  the  latter  have  broken  into  his  room  to 
get  the  cigarettes?" 

"There  seems  no  sense  to  it." 

"Yet  he  may  have  realized  the  danger  of  the 
cigarettes  being  in  Valentin's  possession,  and  in 
stead  of  trying  to  warn  him  simply  came  and  took 
them  away.  It  is  not  a  particularly  plausible 
explanation;  but  let  us  admit  it,  for  the  moment, 
in  order  to  get  ahead  with  our  reasoning.  Sup 
pose  Valentin,  the  man  with  the  black  beard,  and 
Mary  Lanahan,  the  nurse,  to  be  all  working  to 
gether,  either  with  Mrs.  Stapleton,  or  with  out 
side  parties.  They  have  the  child  safely  hidden. 
They  abduct  you,  and  send  the  message  to  Mr. 
Stapleton  through  you.  They  do  not  trust  you, 
knowing,  no  doubt,  that  you  are  an  agent  of  my 
office.  They  send  Valentin  along,  on  the  back 
of  the  machine,  to  pretend  to  be  an  enemy  of 
theirs  trying,  like  yourself,  to  recover  the  child. 
He  thus  gets  into  your  confidence.  He  advises 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  125 

you  to  report  your  message  from  the  kidnappers 
to  Mr.  Stapleton  at  once.  He  questions  you,  and 
learns  that  you  do  not  know  the  location  of  the 
house  where  the  child  is  hidden.  He  then  offers 
to  show  you  as  nearly  as  he  can  where  the  house 
is  located.  If  he  is  in  league  with  the  kidnappers, 
he  will  take  you,  and  the  men  whom  tomorrow  I 
shall  send  with  you,  to  some  location  miles  re 
moved  from  the  actual  point  where  the  child  is 
concealed,  and  you  will  waste  the  day  in  a  use 
less  search.  Decidedly  it  would  be  a  clever  move 
on  their  part." 

"It  certainly  would." 

"Further,  you  told  this  fellow  that  you  had  a 
plan  to  capture  the  scoundrels.  You  are  to  ac 
quaint  him  with  that  plan,  tomorrow  afternoon. 
If  you  do  so,  he  will  no  doubt  get  to  the  telephone 
on  some  pretext  and  warn  his  comrades  of  what 
you  intend  to  do.  I  strongly  recommend  that 
you  put  no  faith  in  the  fellow  whatever." 

"Still,  you  would  advise  trying  to  locate  the 
house,  as  he  suggests?" 

"Yes,  we  may  be  wrong  about  him.  We  must 
leave  no  stone  unturned.  And  now  we  come  to 
your  interview  with  Mr.  Stapleton.  You  gave 
him  the  message,  of  course.  What  did  he  say?" 


126  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"He  said  that  he  intended  to  carry  out  the  in 
structions  I  gave  him  to  the  letter — pay  these 
fellows  their  money,  and  get  back  the  boy." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
anger.  "Sacre!"  He  must  not  do  that!  The 
stupid  fellow!  He  will  spoil  everything!" 

Grace  laughed  quietly  to  herself.  "Hardly 
stupid,  Monsieur!  The  poor  man  is  half  mad 
over  the  boy's  loss.  He  will  do  anything,  to  get 
him  back.  I  can  scarcely  blame  him." 

The  Prefect  held  out  his  hand.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  my  child.  You  are  right.  It  is  perhaps 
but  natural  for  him  to  feel  as  he  does.  But  there 
are  other  things  at  stake,  than  the  recovery  of 
the  child.  For  Monsieur  Stapleton  to  pay  over 
this  huge  sum  to  these  criminals,  and  then  to 
allow  them  to  -escape,  is  not  only  a  grave  reflec 
tion  upon  the  efficiency  of  the  Paris  police,  but  is 
an  injustice  to  the  public  as  well.  If  these  men 
are  successful  in  this  attempt,  they  will  make 
others.  Other  children  will  be  stolen.  I  cannot 
permit  it.  It  must  be  prevented  at  all  costs. 
These  men  must  be  brought  to  justice." 

"How  can  you  prevent  it,  Monsieur?  Mr. 
Stapleton  is  determined." 

"That,  my  child,  is  the  question.     I  cannot  stop 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  127 

Monsieur  Stapleton  if  he  wishes  to  drive  out 
the  road  to  Versailles  and  toss  a  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  into  the  first  automobile  that  passes 
him,  showing  a  blue  light."  He  rose  and  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 

"I  have  a  plan,  Monsieur,"  said  Grace,  quietly. 

"What  is  it,  my  child?"  The  Prefect  regarded 
her  with  an  indulgent  smile.  He  was  very  fond 
of  Grace.  He  regretted  that  he  had  been  unable 
to  secure  the  services  of  her  husband  in  this  case. 
He  knew,  from  past  experience,  her  cleverness; 
but  he  did  not  believe  that  in  a  matter  of  this 
sort  she  would  be  able  to  outwit  men  who  were 
probably  among  the  shrewdest  criminals  in 
Paris. 

"First,"  said  Grace,  "we  will  have  the  location 
pointed  out  to  us  by  Valentin  thoroughly 
searched." 

"Assuredly!  It  will,  however,  probably  result 
in  nothing.  Even  if  Valentin  is  telling  the  truth, 
these  fellows  will  beyond  question  have  moved 
the  child  before  now  to  prepare  for  the  work  of 
tomorrow  evening." 

"Possibly.  At  any  rate,  we  will  try.  After 
that,  I  shall  want  Valentin  to  drive  a  motor  car 
for  me.  He  is  an  accomplished  chauffeur." 


128  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"You  will  take  him  into  your  confidence,  then?" 
asked  the  Prefect,  in  some  alarm. 

"No.  I  shall  tell  him  nothing,  except  that  he 
is  to  drive  the  car,  and  where." 

"  Very  well.     But  be  careful.     What  next?" 

Grace  leaned  over  and  spoke  to  the  Prefect  in 
low  tones  for  several  minutes.  He  listened  to 
what  she  said,  occasionally  smiling,  and  nodding 
his  head.  Presently  he  brought  his  hand  down 
sharply  upon  the  table.  "Bravo!"  he  exclaimed. 
"You  were  born  to  be  a  detective.  We  will  get 
the  kidnappers,  the  money,  and  in  all  probability 
the  child  as  well.  I  congratulate  you!" 

"You  think  it  will  work,  then?" 

"I  do  not  see  how  it  can  fail.  It  is  an  inspira 
tion.  I  shall  certainly  feel  very  well  satisfied 
indeed,  if  I  can  return  to  Monsieur  Stapleton 
both  his  child  and  his  money,  and  at  the  same 
time  place  the  kidnappers  behind  the  bars.  I 
could  never  permit  it  to  be  said  that  the  police 
of  Paris  would  knowingly  allow  a  desperate  band 
of  criminals  to  get  away  with  half  a  million  of 
francs  without  lifting  a  hand  to  prevent  it."  He 
rose  and  glanced  at  his  watch.  "Come,  my 
child.  It  is  after  midnight.  You  have  had  a  long 
and  exciting  day.  You  had  better  get  some  rest." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  129 

Grace  rose.  "Richard  seemed  awfully  puzzled 
when  he  saw  me." 

"Did  he?"  The  Prefect  laughed  mischiev 
ously.  "Really  it  is  a  great  joke  upon  him.  To 
be  within  a  step  of  his  own  wife,  and  not  to  know 
•her!" 

Grace  seemed  scarcely  to  appreciate  the  humor 
of  the  situation.  "I  think  it's  a  shame,"  she  said, 
"Poor  Richard.  He'll  never  forgive  me.  I  really 
think  I  ought  to  tell  him." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  shook  his  head.  "If  you 
do  that,  my  dear  child,  everything  will  be  spoiled. 
He  will  insist  upon  your  dropping  the  case  at 
once,  and  that  would  certainly  not  be  fair  to  me." 

"But,  Monsieur,  after  all,  you  really  do  not 
need  me,  with  all  the  clever  men  you  have  upon 
your  staff." 

"Who  knows?  Perhaps  you  may  succeed, 
where  they  will  fail.  I  have  great  faith  in  the 
intuition  of  a  woman.  And  already  you  have 
advanced  the  case  further  in  forty-eight  hours 
than  my  men  have  done  in  ten  days.  It  was  a 
chance,  I  will  admit,  that  these  rascals  should 
have  chosen  you  to  deliver  their  demands  to 
Monsieur  Stapleton.  I  confess  I  do  not  under 
stand  their  reasons  for  doing  so.  They  must 


130  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

have  known  that  besides  telling  your  story  to  him, 
you  would  also  tell  it  to  me.  It  may  have  been 
sheer  bravado  on  their  part — it  is  a  characteristic, 
I  have  noted,  in  many  criminals.  They  seem  to 
glory  in  defying  the  police.  These  fellows,  no 
doubt,  think  that  they  have  matters  so  arranged 
that  capture  is  impossible.  I  think  we  shall  give 
them  a  little  surprise." 

He  turned  to  the  door,  and  held  it  open,  al 
lowing  Grace  to  pass  into  the  hall.  "Good  night, 
my  child,"  he  called  out  to  her,  as  she  began  to 
ascend  the  stairs.  "I  think  I  will  smoke  one  more 
cigar." 

As  for  Grace,  she  lay  awake  a  long  time,  think 
ing  of  Richard,  of  their  home  in  the  country,  of 
the  happy  hours  they  had  spent  there — before  this 
unexpected  interruption  to  their  honeymoon.  It 
seemed  very  queer  to  her,  to  be  lying  there,  alone. 
She  had  not  gotten  used  to  it.  And  somewhere, 
in  this  big  city,  Richard  was  also  sleeping — and 
she  not  with  him!  The  excitement  of  the  affair 
was  beginning  to  die  out.  The  meeting  with  Rich 
ard  on  the  boat,  which  she  had  planned  when  she 
set  out  from  home,  had  not  materialized.  She  had 
postponed  this  meeting,  in  her  thoughts,  until  his 
arrival  in  Paris,  and  now — he  had  come,  and  still 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  131 

she  had  not  been  able  so  much  as  to  touch  his 
hand.  She  finally  went  to  sleep,  devoutly  praying 
that  tomorrow,  and  the  capture  of  the  kidnap 
pers,  would  mark  the  end  of  their  needless  and 
cruel  separation. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PROMPTLY  at  eight  o'clock  the  next  even 
ing  Mr.  John  Stapleton  left  his  house  in 
the  Avenue  Kleber,  in  a  big  French  touring 
car,  with  Frangois  at  the  wheel. 

The  car  presented  no  points  of  peculiarity, 
being  like  a  thousand  others  to  be  seen  any  even 
ing  upon  the  streets  of  Paris.  It  was  of  large 
size,  high  powered,  and  painted  a  green  so  dark 
as  to  be  almost  black. 

Mr.  Stapleton  sat  in  the  tonneau,  wearing  a 
dark  blue  serge  suit,  and  a  Panama  hat.  In  his 
left  hand  he  clutched  a  small  package,  about  the 
size  of  a  cigar  box.  In  the  package  were  bank 
notes  amounting  to  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Close  beside  his  right  foot  lay  a  rubber  bulb, 
from  which  a  short  pipe  extended  through  a  hole 
bored  in  the  side  of  the  car.  The  end  of  the  pipe 
held  a  small  brass  nozzle.  It  projected  but  a 
short  distance  beyond  the  body  of  the  car,  and 

132 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  133 

in  the  dim  light  of  early  evening  was  quite  in 
visible. 

Mr.  Stapleton  told  his  chauffeur  to  drive  out 
the  road  toward  Versailles.  "I  feel  like  getting 
some  fresh  air,"  he  added.  "It's  rather  warm, 
tonight."  Inwardly  he  was  burning  up  with  ex 
citement. 

From  Paris  to  Versailles  is  a  matter  of  some 
fourteen  miles.  Mr.  Gtapleton's  car  proceeded 
slowly.  He  wanted  to  run  no  chances  of  missing 
the  car  with  the  blue  light. 

At  the  Porte  de  Versailles  he  paused  long 
enough  to  see  Richard  Duvall,  standing  in  the 
shadow  of  the  gateway.  Then  he  passed  outside 
of  Paris. 

There  were  many  automobiles  and  other  ve 
hicles  on  the  road.  The  evening  was  a  pleasant 
one,  and  all  Paris  seemed  out  taking  the  air.  The 
majority  of  the  vehicles  were  coming  toward  the 
city.  He  observed  a  car,  some  distance  behind 
him,  containing  a  single  occupant,  a  man  of  mid 
dle  age,  but  paid  no  attention  to  it.  His  eyes 
were  strained  to  detect  in  the  cars  approaching 
him  some  evidence  of  the  signal  light  which  was 
to  rouse  him  to  sudden  action. 

He  noticed  that   Frangois,   like   himself,   was 


134  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

carefully  scrutinizing  each  car  as  it  approached 
them.  He  wondered  if  the  chauffeur  could  have 
any  idea  of  the  purpose  of  his  expedition;  but 
presently  dismissed  the  thought  as  entirely  un 
likely,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  passing  cars. 

He  had  proceeded  perhaps  four  or  five  miles 
beyond  the  fortifications,  when  he  saw  a  large 
car  approaching  slowly  from  the  direction  of 
[Versailles.  It  contained  but  two  persons,  the 
chauffeur,  and  a  heavily  veiled  woman. 

The  chauffeur,  who  was  keenly  observing  the 
machine  in  which  Mr.  Stapleton  sat,  began  to 
swerve  to  the  right  side  of  the  road,  so  as  to 
pass  as  closely  to  the  banker's  car  as  possible.  At 
the  same  moment  there  showed  through  the  gath 
ering  darkness  a  brilliant  spot  of  blue  light  in  the 
tonneau  where  sat  the  woman. 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant. 
The  two  cars  approached  each  other  rapidly.  It 
was  necessary  for  him  to  act  with  great  quickness. 
He  shifted  the  package  containing  the  money 
from  his  left  hand  to  his  right,  and  a  moment 
later  had  tossed  it  lightly  into  the  other  car. 

He  saw  at  once  that  it  landed  safely  within,  and 
at  the  same  instant  he  pressed  his  foot  down  hard 
upon  the  rubber  bulb.  In  a  moment  the  car  with 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  135 

the  blue  light  had  swept  past,  and  was  disappear 
ing  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Paris. 

Mr.  Stapleton  leaned  forward  and  addressed 
Francois  in  a  voice  which  quivered  with  excite 
ment.  "Drive  home  at  once,"  he  commanded. 

In  a  moment  he  was  following  the  first  car 
toward  the  city. 

He  did  not  notice,  as  he  swept  down  the  dark 
ening  road,  the  car  which  had  been  following 
him  all  the  way  from  Paris.  It  continued  on  its 
way  toward  Versailles.  In  it  were  two  people. 
At  the  wheel  sat  a  man  who  bore,  in  the  semi-dark 
ness,  a  striking  resemblance  to  Francois,  Mr. 
Stapleton's  chauffeur,  while  in  the  rear  sat  a 
figure,  in  dark  suit  and  Panama  hat,  which  seemed 
for  all  the  world  like  that  of  the  banker  himself. 
Had  a  casual  observer  not  seen  Mr.  Stapleton 
turn  back  toward  Paris,  he  would  have  concluded 
that  he  was  still  on  his  way  toward  Versailles. 

The  occupants  of  this  second  car  also  appeared 
to  be  keenly  watching  the  various  automobiles 
which  passed  them,  as  though  expecting  some  sig 
nal,  some  recognition;  yet,  in  spite  of  their  eager 
and  expectant  glances,  they  seemed  doomed  to 
disappointment. 

At  last  Versailles  was  reached.     The  elderly 


136  THE   BLUE  LIGHTS 

man  in  the  tonneau  gave  a  short  command,  his 
chauffeur  turned  the  car  about,  and  they  began  to 
return  to  Paris.  Nothing  further  whatever  hap 
pened  on  the  Versailles  road. 

Meanwhile,  Richard  Duvall,  at  the  Porte  de 
Versailles,  was  carefully  scrutinizing  the  various 
incoming  machines  that  passed  the  gate  and  en 
tered  the  city.-  With  a  brilliant  electric  search 
light  he  examined  their  bodies  and  wheels,  look 
ing  always  for  the  telltale  red  stains  which 
would  identify  the  kidnappers'  car.  Beside  him 
stood  Vernet,  one  of  the  Prefect's  assistants,  with 
whom  Duvall  had  become  well  acquainted  during 
his  former  stay  in  Paris. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Duvall,"  remarked  the  latter, 
"a  most  ingenious  plan — this  of  yours.  I  won 
der  if  it  will  be  succesful?" 

"I  feel  sure  of  it." 

"I  hope  you  are  right."  He  looked  at  his 
watch.  "Half  past  eight.  About  time,  I  should 
think,  from  what  you  tell  me.  Here  is  a  big  fel 
low,  now.  A  Pasquet,  by  her  looks.  Six-cylin 
der,  too." 

Duvall  glanced  at  the  oncoming  car.  A  wagon 
which  preceded  it  was  just  passing  the  gates.  The 
big  Pasquet  slowed  up,  and  almost  stopped. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  137 

The  detective  threw  the  rays  of  his  searchlight 
on  the  body  of  the  car,  then  started  back  with  an 
exclamation.  From  one  end  to  the  other,  the 
dark  green  finish  of  the  sides  and  wheels  was 
spattered  and  streaked  with  bright  red  paint. 
Dust  had  settled  in  it,  in  places,  especially  on  the 
wheels;  but  above,  on  the  doors,  it  was  clear  and 
unmistakable. 

"Vernet,"  he  shouted,  excitedly,  "it  is  the  one! 
Quick!  Don't  let  them  get  away." 

Vernet  stepped  up  to  the  quivering  motor.  At 
the  wheel  sat  a  young  man,  quite  composed.  In 
the  tonneau,  a  veiled  woman  reclined  at  ease.  In 
her  hands  she  held  a  brown  paper  package. 

She  leaned  toward  Vernet,  and  spoke  a  single 
word  to  him.  Duvall  did  not  hear  what  it  was; 
but  its  effect  upon  the  Prefect's  man  was  instan 
taneous — electrical.  He  stepped  back  and  raised 
his  hat.  "Pardon,  Madame,"  he  said,  and  the 
Pasquet  rolled  through  the  gate  and  into  the 
streets  of  Paris  unmolested. 

Duvall  had  sprung  forward,  and,  as  he  did  so, 
swept  the  occupants  of  the  car  with  his  electric 
searchlight.  Suddenly  he  drew  back  in  amaze 
ment,  just  as  Vernet  allowed  the  car  to  pass  on. 
He  could  scarcely  believe  that  what  he  saw  was 


138  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

a  reality.  There  was  the  big  black  car,  its  body 
and  wheels  plentifully  bespattered  with  the  iden 
tifying  red  stain — and  there,  at  the  wheel,  sat 
Alphonse  Valentin,  while  the  veiled  woman  in  the 
rear  was — Grace  ! 

He  did  not  know  it  was  Grace — he  did  know 
that  it  was  the  woman  who  had  been  with  Valentin 
in  his  room,  who  had  brought  the  message  from 
the  kidnappers  to  Mr.  Stapleton,  who,  in  some 
far  off  and  intangible  way,  reminded  him  of 
Grace. 

There  she  sat,  in  her  hand  the  package  contain 
ing  Mr.  Stapleton's  money — and  Vernet  doffed 
his  cap  to  her,  and  permitted  her  to  go  on !  Was 
this  woman,  then,  hoodwinking  even  the  police? 

He  sprang  to  Vernet's  side.  "Stop  them!"  he 
cried,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "They  are  the  ones  I 
am  after." 

Vernet  shook  his  head.  "Impossible,  Mon 
sieur.  They  are  given  safe  conduct  by  Monsieur 
the  Prefect  himself." 

"But — they  are  thieves — kidnappers!" 

Vernet  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It  may  be  so, 
Monsieur  Duvall;  but  my  orders  are  to  let  them 
pass." 

The  detective  ground  his  teeth,  helpless.     His 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  139 

scheme  for  identifying  the  criminals  had  worked 
perfectly.  He  had  found  them,  only  to  see  both 
them  and  Mr.  Stapleton's  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  as  well  slip  quietly  through  his  fingers.  He 
cursed  the  whole  police  force  of  Paris  roundly, 
in  his  anger. 

The  arrival  of  another  car  distracted  his  at 
tention.  It  was  Mr.  Stapleton,  hurrying  home, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  his  boy.  Duvall  did  not 
stop  him.  The  banker  was  evidently  thinking  of 
nothing  but  his  lost  son. 

Several  other  cars  passed.  Duvall  had  no 
interest  in  them.  He  was  about  to  turn  away, 
with  the  intention  of  hunting  up  Mr.  Stapleton 
and  learning  whether  or  not  the  boy  had  been 
returned  to  him,  when  he  heard  a  familiar  voice 
calling  him  by  name.  He  turned.  It  was  Mon 
sieur  Lefevre,  in  a  big  dark  green  car. 

"Mon  Dieu!  Duvall!"  the  Prefect  cried,  in 
pretended  surprise.  "You  here!  In  Paris!  Or 
do  my  eyes  deceive  me?" 

The  detective  looked  a  bit  sheepish.  He  real 
ized  that  in  not  calling  on  his  old  friend  before 
now,  he  had  been  guilty  of  an  apparent  rudeness 
which  Monsieur  Lefevre  might  justly  resent. 
"Monsieur,"  he  cried,  "it  is  indeed  I."  He  put 


140  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

out  his  hand,  and  grasped  that  of  his  old  chief 
warmly.  "A  little  matter  of  business  brought  me 
to  Paris.  I  have  only  just  arrived." 

"Indeed."  The  Prefect's  eyes  twinkled.  "I 
hope,  my  dear  fellow,  that  your  other  engage 
ments  will  permit  you  to  come  and  see  me  before 
long." 

"I  shall  come  this  very  evening,  Monsieur.  In 
fact,  I  have  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  discuss  with  you.  Shall  you  be  at  liberty?" 

"In  an  hour,  mon  ami.  Until  then  I  have 
other  things  to  occupy  me.  Come  to  the  Prefec 
ture  in  an  hour.  I  shall  be  waiting  for  you.  For 
the  present,  adieu."  He  called  an  order  to  his 
chauffeur,  and  drove  rapidly  off  into  the  dark 
ness. 

Duvall  turned  on  his  heel  and  began  to  look 
for  a  taxicab.  "Good  night,  Vernet,"  he  called 
out,  as  he  went  up  the  street. 

In  half  an  hour,  he  had  reached  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  house.  He  found  the  unfortunate  banker 
striding  up  and  down  his  library  in  a  towering 
rage.  "The  fellows  have  deceived  me!"  he  cried. 
"They  have  not  brought  back  my  boy.  Did  you 
see  anything  of  them?  Tell  me!"  He  grasped 
Duvall  nervously  by  the  arm. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  141 

"The  car  into  which  you  threw  the  package 
of  money  contained,  besides  the  chauffeur,  but 
one  occupant,  a  woman,  did  it  not?" 

"Yes — yes!     Did  you  get  her?" 

"No." 

"Why  not?  Did  your  scheme  to  identify  the 
car  fail  to  work?" 

"On  the  contrary,  it  worked  perfectly.  I 
stopped  the  car  at  the  barrier.  The  woman  in  it 
had  the  package  of  money  in  her  hand." 

"And  you  did  not  arrest  her!  In  Heaven's 
name,  why  not?" 

"The  police  would  not  permit  me  to  do  so. 
The  woman  was  the  same  one  who  brought  you 
the  message  last  night,  the  supposed  agent  of 
the  police.  They  allowed  her  to  pass  the  gates." 

"What?"  the  banker  fairly  shouted  his  ques 
tion.  "This  is  ridiculous!  Is  the  woman  a  crimi 
nal,  or  is  she  a  detective?  She  cannot  be  both, 
and  if  she  is  the  latter  why  was  she  in  that  car, 
with  my  money  in  her  hand?" 

"I  do  not  know.  But  I  mean  to  find  out  very 
shortly." 

"How?  I'd  like  to  know!" 

"I  am  going  to  see  the  Prefect  of  Police  at 
once." 


142  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Mr.  Stapleton  sank  into  a  chair,  and  groaned. 
"I  had  hoped  to  have  Jack  with  me  by  now. 
His  poor  mother  is  distracted.  Isn't  there  any 
thing,  Mr.  Duvall,  that  you  can  do?" 

"I  hope  to  answer  that  question  better,  Mr. 
Stapleton,  after  I  have  seen  Monsieur  Lefevre. 
If  this  woman,  and  her  companion,  Valentin,  are 
really  the  kidnappers,  they  are  in  Paris,  and  we 
shall  be  able  to  lay  our  hands  on  them  without 
difficulty.  If  they  are  not,  your  money,  at  least 
is  safe.  I  must  leave  you  now;  but  as  soon  as 
I  learn  anything,  I  will  report  to  you  at  once. 
Good  night." 

He  left  the  house,  more  mystified  than  he  had 
ever  been  in  his  life.  From  the  start,  this  case 
had  apparently  been  one  in  wThich  all  the  clues 
led  to  absurd  contradictions,  or  else  to  nothing 
at  all. 

In  fifteen  minutes  he  was  at  the  Prefecture. 

Monsieur  Lefevre  sent  out  word  that  he  would 
be  occupied  for  a  few  moments,  and  the  detective 
sat  down  as  patiently  as  possible,  to  wait. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  events  of  the  Versailles  road  left  Grace 
Duvall   in   a   high   state   of  good   humor. 
The  plan  she  had  suggested  had  been  a 
success — at  least   so   far   as  her  own  part  in  it 
was   concerned.      How    Monsieur   Lefevre    had 
fared,  she  did  not  yet  know.     She  looked  down 
at   the   brown  paper  package   she   held   in   her 
hand,  and  ordered  Valentin  to  drive  to  the  Pre 
fecture. 

The  day  had  been  an  eventful  one.  Immedi 
ately  after  breakfast  Grace  had  gone  to  Mr. 
Stapleton's  house  and  had  a  long  interview  with 
Mrs.  Stapleton.  That  lady,  apparently  quite 
prostrated  from  worry  and  alarm  over  the  fate 
of  her  son,  received  her  in  her  boudoir,  where  she 
lay,  a  charming  picture,  upon  a  divan. 

Grace  had  no  more  than  entered  the  room, 
when  she  detected  the  odor  of  cigarette  smoke, 
faint  but  unmistakable.  She  glanced  at  the  table 
which  stood  beside  the  divan  upon  which  Mrs. 

143 


144  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Stapleton  lay.  On  it,  a  tiny  porcelain  ash  receiver 
contained  a  fluffy  mass  of  gray-white  ashes,  and 
the  half  smoked  remains  of  a  cigarette.  The  tip, 
partly  covered  by  the  ashes,  was  of  gold. 

The  girl  engaged  her  hostess  in  a  long  conver 
sation,  quieting  her  fears,  which  seemed  real 
enough,  and  predicting  the  early  recovery  of  her 
boy.  It  was  quite  evident  that  Mrs.  Stapleton 
was  terribly  nervous.  No  doubt  this  accounted 
for  the  cigarettes.  Although  Grace  did  not  use 
them  herself,  she  knew  how  their  quieting  effect 
on  the  nerves  made  them  almost  necessities,  at 
times,  to  their  devotees. 

Presently  she  observed  that  Mrs.  Stapleton 
held  within  her  left  hand,  concealed  beneath  the 
folds  of  her  kimono,  a  small  pasteboard  box, 
a  box  of  cigarettes.  Grace  determined  upon  a 
bold  move. 

"May  I  have  one  of  your  cigarettes,  Mrs. 
Stapleton?"  she  asked,  in  her  sweetest  manner. 
"I've  forgotten  to  bring  any  with  me — and — you 
know  how  it  is." 

Mrs.  Stapleton's  features  relaxed  into  some 
thing  approaching  a  smile.  She  had  been  lying 
there  wondering  whether  she  dared  offer  one  to 
Grace,  and  thus  be  able  to  sooth  her  own  over- 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  145 

strained  nerves.  She  brought  forth  the  box  and 
extended  it  toward  her  visitor.  Grace  took  one 
of  the  tiny  cylinders  and  lit  it.  It  was  of  the 
same  make  as  the  one  she  had  secured  in  Alphonse 
F ale n tin's  room! 

She  took  her  departure  a  little  later,  wonder 
ing  greatly.  The  whole  affair  had  begun  to  take 
on  an  air  of  baffling  contradiction. 

She  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning,  and  most 
of  the  afternoon,  searching  the  houses  near 
the  point  on  the  road  to  Versailles  indicated  by 
Valentin.  With  her  were  three  men  from  the 
Prefect's  office — silent,  able  men,  in  plain  clothes, 
who  pretended  to  be  keepers  from  the  Jardin 
des  Plantes,  In  search  of  a  dangerous  cobra,  which 
was  supposed  to  have  escaped  from  its  cage  the 
night  before. 

The  terrified  householders  threw  open  their 
doors  with  unassumed  alacrity.  The  suggestion 
of  a  deadly  reptile  lurking  in  their  gardens  was  a 
veritable  open  sesame.  Yet  no  traces  of  the  miss 
ing  boy  were  found,  and,  more  remarkable  still, 
Grace  was  unable  to  identify  any  of  the  many 
gardens  as  the  one  in  which  she  had  seen  the 
child  playing  with  the  spaniel.  This  disappointed 
her  greatly.  She  knew  well  that,  if  Valentin  was 


146  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

telling  the  truth,  the  garden  was  here;  yet,  al 
though  they  visited  every  house  within  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  they  were  unable  to  locate  it.  She  re 
membered  now  that  in  her  agitation,  her  eager 
examination  of  the  child,  she  had  not  fixed  upon 
her  mind  any  salient  point  in  the  garden  itself. 
All  that  she  remembered  was  a  bit  of  grass,  a 
gravel  walk,  and  the  child  playing  with  the  dog. 
A  dozen  of  the  little  inclosures  presented  similar 
features.  She  returned  to  the  Prefecture,  baffled. 

"The  fellow  is  undoubtedly  lying,"  had  been 
Monsieur  Lefevre's  comment.  "He  is  trying  to 
throw  you  off  the  track,  in  order  to  protect  the 
nurse,  and  possibly  Mrs.  Stapleton  as  well.  I 
should  not  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  boy's 
mother  is  the  guilty  person." 

Grace  did  not  agree  with  him;  so  she  said 
nothing.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Staple- 
ton  used  cigarettes  similar  to  those  which  seemed 
in  some  queer  way  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the 
mystery,  she  had  an  intuitive  feeling  that  the 
grief  which  the  banker's  wife  showed  was  entirely 
real. 

At  half  past  seven,  Grace  left  the  Prefecture 
in  a  high-powered  car,  furnished  by  Monsieur 
Lefevre.  Alphonse  Valentin  was  at  the  wheel. 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  147 

In  her  hand  she  held  a  pocket  electric  searchlight, 
across  the  front  of  which  had  been  affixed  a  cir 
cular  bit  of  blue  glass. 

At  ten  minutes  to  eight  she  arrived  at  Ver 
sailles.  She  at  once  ordered  Valentin  to  turn  and 
drive  back  toward  Paris  at  moderate  speed.  She 
did  not  take  him  into  her  confidence  regarding 
what  she  proposed  to  do,  but  kept  a  keen  watch 
for  the  car  containing  Mr.  Stapleton. 

Her  plan  had  worked.  Mr.  Stapleton,  seeing 
her  signal,  had  tossed  her  the  package  of  money 
— she  only  hoped  that  the  other  part  of  her  plan 
had  been  carried  out  with  equal  success. 

The  other  part  of  the  plan  had  been  this: 
Monsieur  Lefevre,  who  in  build  and  general  ap 
pearance  was  not  unlike  Mr.  Stapleton,  was  to 
follow  the  latter's  car  in  a  machine  of  the  same 
make  and  general  appearance.  He  was  to  be 
driven  by  a  chauffeur  made  up  to  resemble  Fran 
cois  sufficiently  to  be  mistaken  for  him  in  the 
dim  light  of  early  evening.  He  himself  was  to 
make  such  alterations  in  his  appearance  and  dress 
as  would  enable  him  to  pass,  under  a  cursory 
examination,  for  Stapleton.  In  the  bottom  of  the 
car  two  armed  men  lay  concealed. 

When  the  car  containing  Mr.  Stapleton  turned 


148  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

back  toward  Paris,  after  having  unwittingly  de 
livered  the  money  to  Grace,  the  Prefect  would 
continue  on  toward  Versailles.  He  would  know 
that  the  car  containing  the  kidnappers  was  still 
ahead  of  him;  since,  had  it  not  been,  it,  instead  of 
Grace's  car,  would  have  signaled  Mr.  Stapleton. 

Grace  had  started  out  from  Versailles  es 
pecially  early,  convinced  that  the  kidnappers 
would  not  leave  there  until  eight,  at  least.  In 
this  assumption  she  was  correct.  The  car  con 
taining  the  kidnappers  was,  at  that  moment, 
creeping  toward  Paris  some  two  miles  in  her 
rear,  looking  everywhere  for  Mr.  Stapleton. 

The  Prefect  pursued  his  way  toward  Versailles 
in  anxious  expectancy.  Each  moment  he  thought 
to  see  the  blue  signal  flash  from  the  various  cars 
which  passed  him.  When  it  came,  his  men  were 
to  spring  up,  and  at  once  bring  the  other  car  to 
a  standstill  by  firing  their  guns,  heavily  charged 
with  buckshot,  at  its  wheels.  A  punctured  tire, 
and  the  thing  was  done.  His  men,  assisted  by  the 
chauffeur,  would  then  overpower  the  occupants 
of  the  other  car  before  they  could  realize  what 
had  happened.  In  it  they  hoped  to  find  the 
child. 

The  plan  was  well  conceived;  but  unfortunately 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  149 

it  did  not  work.  Whatever  the  reason,  none  of 
the  cars  which  passed  the  Prefect  on  his  way  to 
Versailles  displayed  the  telltale  blue  light.  All 
seemed  but  peaceable  automobilists,  intent  on 
reaching  Paris  and  its  restaurants  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Had  his  disguise  been  penetrated?  He 
could  not  believe  it.  He  returned  to  the  Pre 
fecture  in  great  disgust,  wondering  in  what  way 
matters  had  gone  wrong. 

Grace  was  waiting  for  him,  an  eager  smile 
on  her  face.  "Here  is  the  money,"  she  said, 
placing  the  package  on  his  desk.  "Did  you  get 
the  men?" 

"No."  The  Prefect  flung  himself  into  a  chair. 
"They  did  not  signal." 

"But  why,  I  wonder?"  The  failure  of  her 
plan  was  extremely  annoying. 

"I  can  think  of  but  one  reason.  There  must 
have  been  some  way  in  which  these  fellows  knew 
the  Stapleton  car  when  they  approached  it — some 
signal,  perhaps,  that  I  was  unable  to  give." 

"But  no  such  signal  was  mentioned  in  the  in 
structions  I  brought  to  Mr.  Stapleton.  He  gave 
none,  as  we  approached  him. 

"Did  you  observe  anything  peculiar  about  the 
appearance  of  his  car,  anything  that  might  have 


150  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

served  as  a  clue  to  enable  these  fellows  to  recog 
nize  it,  even  in  the  dark,  with  certainty?" 

Grace  thought  a  moment,  then  her  face  felL 
"There  was  one  thing  that  I  noticed  as  Mr. 
Stapleton's  car  came  up  to  us;  but  I  am  afraid 
I  failed  to  realize  its  significance  at  the  time." 

"What  was  it?" 

"The  electric  headlight  on  the  side  nearest  to 
me  was  working  very  badly.  In  fact,  it  seemed 
to  be  almost  out.  The  other  was  burning  bril 
liantly." 

The  Prefect  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Sacre!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Of  course.  The  thing  is  as  plain  as 
the  nose  on  your  face!" 

"But  who—" 

« 

"Francois!  The  fellow  is  in  this  thing  up  to 
his  neck.  He  claims  to  have  been  asleep  when 
the  boy  was  stolen.  He  drives  the  car  which 
brings  you  back,  after  your  abduction.  He,  dis 
guised,  steals  the  box  of  cigarettes.  He  fixes  the 
lights  so  that  the  kidnappers  are  advised,  not 
only  beyond  any  doubt  that  they  are  signaling 
the  right  car,  but  that  all  is  safe — that  Monsieur 
Stapleton  has  no  detectives  or  members  of  the 
police  hidden  in  his  tonneau.  The  thing  is  per 
fectly  clear.  Believe  me,  my  child,  had  there 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  151 

been  anyone  in  that  car  with  Mr.  Stapleton,  those 
lights  would  have  both  been  burning  with  equal 
brightness,  as  mine  were.  They  did  not  give 
me  the  signal,  when  they  passed  me,  because  the 
lights  failed  to  tell  them  that  all  was  well." 

Grace  looked  up  quickly.  "Then,  if  that  is 
true,  Frangois  knew  that  Mr.  Stapleton  had 
thrown  the  money  into  the  wrong  car." 

"Undoubtedly,  and  by  this  time,  no  doubt,  his 
confederates  know  it  as  well.  Naturally  the 
child  has  not  been  delivered.  We  are  just  where 
we  were  before." 

"You  will  arrest  Francois  at  once,  I  suppose." 

"No.  It  will  be  useless.  By  leaving  him  free, 
we  may  learn  something.  By  locking  him  up, 
with  no  tangible  evidence  against  him,  we  ac 
complish  nothing  at  all." 

"Then  what  do  you  advise?" 

"You  will  return  the  money  to'  Mr.  Stapleton 
at  once.  You  can  tell  him,  if  you  wish,  how  it 
came  into  your  possession.  He  will  be  furious, 
of  course;  but  he  must  understand  that  the  cap 
ture  of  these  scoundrels  Is  quite  as  important  to 
the  city  of  Paris  as  the  recovery  of  his  son.  We 
have  done  our  best,  and  failed.  We  must  try 
again." 


152  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

"Richard  was  at  the  Porte  de  Versailles,"  re 
marked  Grace,  quietly.  "He  tried  to  stop  my 
car." 

"Yes.  I  saw  him.  He  is  coming  here  at 
once." 

The  girl  rose,  in  nervous  haste.  "I  must  go, 
then.  It  would  be  most  unwise  to  have  him  find 
me  here." 

There  was  a  quick  knock  at  the  door.  The 
Prefect  rose,  and  opened  it;  then  turned  to  Grace 
with  a  grim  smile.  "Your  husband  is  waiting  in 
the  anteroom,"  he  whispered. 

"But— what  shall  I  do?" 

"Wait  in  here."  Monsieur  Lefevre  opened 
the  door  which  led  to  his  private  office.  "You 
can  hear  everything  quite  plainly.  From  what 
you  tell  me,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  he  in- 
cisted  upon  your  arrest  at  once." 

"It  isn't  fair  to  him.  Poor  Richard!  I'm 
afraid  he'll  never  forgive  me  for  all  this." 

"Nonsense!  You  are  engaged  in  a  very  laud 
able  attempt  to  recover  Mrs.  Stapleton's  child. 
So  is  he.  Your  interests  are  identical.  Only," 
he  paused  with  a  significant  smile,  "from  my 
standpoint,  I  should  much  prefer  that  the  credit 
for  the  boy's  recovery  should  belong  to  the  police 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  153 

of  Paris,  of  which  you,  for  the  time  being,  are 
one." 

Richard  Duvall  came  into  the  Prefect's  office, 
somewhat  ill  at  ease.  The  room,  familiar  to  him 
because  of  the  events  of  the  past,  reminded  him 
forcibly  of  Grace — who  had,  indeed  been  upon 
his  mind  constantly  for  the  past  few  days.  It 
was  here,  in  this  very  room,  that  she  had  first 
told  him  that  she  loved  him — during  the  exciting 
pursuit  of  Victor  Girard,  and  the  million  francs. 
He  gazed  about  at  its  familiar  aspect,  and 
sighed. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  Duvall,"  said  the  Prefect, 
shaking  hands  with  him  warmly.  "What,  may 
I  ask,  brings  you  to  Paris,  at  the  cost  of  inter 
rupting  your  honeymoon?  I  had  supposed  that 
nothing  could  be  of  sufficient  importance  for  that. 
In  fact,  had  I  known  you  would  consider  it  for 
a  moment,  I  should  have  cabled  to  you,  to  give 
me  your  assistance  in  a  most  trying  case." 

"What  case,  Monsieur?" 

"The  mysterious  kidnapping  of  the  child  of 
Monsieur  Stapleton." 

"It  is  that  very  case  that  brings  me  to  Paris. 
I  am  in  Mr.  Stapleton's  employ." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  affected  to  be  greatly  sur- 


154  THE   BLUE  LIGHTS 

prised.  "Is  it  possible,  mon  ami?  That  is  bad 
news  indeed.  This  fellow  Stapleton  no  longer 
has  confidence  in  my  office.  He  retains  you  to  do 
that  which  he  believes  I  shall  fail  to  do.  I  am 
sorry,  my  dear  Duvall,  that  we  are  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  fence." 

"But,  Monsieur,  I  did  not  know  that  you 
wanted  me.  Mr.  Stapleton  is  an  old  friend.  I 
could  not  refuse  to  come  to  his  assistance." 

Lefevre's  eyes  twinkled.  "Have  you  made  any 
progress,  then,  my  friend?" 

"Yes.  Tonight  I  put  in  operation  a  plan  where 
by  I  might  identify  an  automobile  containing  the 
kidnappers,  into  which  Mr.  Stapleton  had  been 
directed  to  throw  a  package  containing  one  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars." 

"Indeed.  You  interest  me.  And  did  you  suc 
ceed  in  identifying  it?" 

"I  did.  I  stopped  the  car,  at  the  Porte  de  Ver 
sailles.  I  knew  it  to  be  the  one  into  which  the 
money  had  been  thrown.  The  car  was  driven  by 
a  man  named  Alphonse  Valentin,  whom  I  have 
every  reason  to  suspect  is  concerned  in  this  affair. 
Its  only  other  occupant  was  a  woman — whom  I 
met  last  night  in  Valentin's  rooms,  and  who 
brought  Mr.  Stapleton  a  message  from  the  kid- 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  155 

nappers.  This  woman  is,  I  believe,  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  whole  thing." 

"Indeed.     And  did  you  arrest  her?" 

"No.  She  claims  to  be  an  agent  of  your 
office.  Vernet,  who  was  at  the  gates  at  my  re 
quest,  refused  to  place  her  and  her  companion 
under  arrest.  She  got  away  with  Mr.  Stapleton's 
money.  I  believe,  Monsieur  Lefevre,  that  you 
are  being  made  a  fool  of  by  a  member  of  your 
own  staff." 

The  Prefect  leaned  over,  and  picked  up  the 
package  containing  the  money  which  lay  upon  his 
desk.  "I  do  not  agree  with  you,  my  friend.  Here 
is  Monsieur  Stapleton's  money." 

Duvall  started  back  in  his  chair,  amazed. 
"Good  Lord,  Chief,  am  I  losing  my  senses? 
What  is  this  affair,  anyway,  a  joke?" 

"Far  from  it,  Monsieur  Duvall.  The  crim 
inals  are  still  at  large.  The  boy  is  in  their  hands. 
We  must  recover  him." 

"But — this  money — " 

"I  arranged  to  get  it,  in  order  to  prevent  Mon 
sieur  Stapleton  from  making  a  fool  of  himself. 
I  wish  to  capture  these  men — not  to  let  them 
blackmail  him  out  of  half  a  million  francs." 

"Had  you  not  interfered,  Monsieur  Lefevre, 


156  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

they  would  have  been  in  my  hands,  by  now.  I 
would  have  had  them  safely  the  moment  they 
attempted  to  enter  Paris.  I  knew  their  car." 

The  Prefect  was  filled  with  curiosity.  "How?" 
he  asked. 

"My  means  of  a  device  with  which  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  car  was  equipped,  the  body  of  the  one  into 
which  he  threw  the  money  was  spattered  with  red 
paint.  I  could  have  identified  it  anywhere." 

"My  dear  Duvall!  I  feel  that  I  should  beg 
your  pardon.  Your  plan  was  cleverness  itself, 
and  I  will  admit  that,  had  I  not  interfered,  you 
would  in  all  probability  have  captured  these  men. 
I  did  not  know  what  you  had  done,  of  course. 
Yet  in  their  escape  I  have  one  consolation.  It 
would  have  been  extremely  distasteful  to  me,  to 
have  had  Mr.  Stapleton  boast  that  a  private  de 
tective  in  his  employ  had  succeeded,  where  the 
police  of  Paris  had  failed." 

"Then  it  would  appear,  Monsieur,"  said  Du 
vall  somewhat  stiffly,  "that  we  are,  in  this  matter 
at  least,  in  opposition." 

"Let  us  rather  say,  my  friend,  in  competition." 
He  placed  his  hand  on  Duvall's  shoulder.  "You 
must  not  blame  me,  if  I  feel  a  pride  in  my  office. 
When  you  were  working  for  the  city  of  Paris, 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  157 

you,  too,  felt  that  pride.  I  am  truly  sorry  that 
I  have  not  the  benefit  of  your  services  now.  How 
ever,  I  think  you  will  admit,  mon  ami,  that  the 
young  woman  who  is  handing  this  case  is  no  mean 
adversary."  The  Prefect  regarded  the  detective 
with  a  quizzical  smile,  behind  which  his  eyes 
twinkled  merrily. 

"Who  is  this  woman?"  asked  Duvall,  quickly. 

"Her  name  is — Goncourt — Estelle  Goncourt." 

"A  Frenchwoman?" 

"Partly.  I  believe  her  mother  was  English." 
The  twinkle  in  his  eye  spread — he  smiled  upon 
the  detective  with  expansive  good  humor.  "Why 
do  you  ask?" 

"You  will  think  it  strange,  perhaps,  Monsieur 
Lefevre,  but  when  I  first  saw  Miss  Goncourt,  she 
reminded  me  strongly  of  my  wife." 

"Of  Grace?" 

"Yes.    Have  you  not  observed  it?" 

"Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  perhaps  there  is 
something  similar  in  the  manner — the  carriage. 
But  your  wife,  my  dear  Duvall,  is  a  blonde,  while 
Mademoiselle  Goncourt  is  decidedly  a  brunette." 

"Yes.  Of  course.  But,  nevertheless,  the  resem 
blance  is  striking."  He  rose  to  go.  "I  hope,  Mon 
sieur,  that  this  kidnapped  boy  may  be  restored 


158  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

to  his  father  very  soon.  I  am  anxious  to  return 
to  America." 

"What!  Leave  Paris  so  quickly?  My  dear 
Duvall,  I  thought  you  Americans  loved  our  city 
so  well,  that  you  never  wanted  to  leave  it." 

"Paris  is  all  right,  Monsieur;  but,"  he  laughed 
heartily,  "I  must  get  back  to  my  wife  and  my 
farm.  I  was  forced  to  leave  in  the  very  middle 
of  my  spring  plowing." 

The  Prefect  roared.  "You — a  farmer!  Mon 
Dieu !  How  droll !  Potatoes,  I  suppose,  and 
chickens,  and  dogs,  and  pigs — " 

"Exactly — and,  believe  me,  Monsieur,  they  are 
more  to  my  liking,  than  all  the  gaieties  of  Paris. 
Some  day  you  must  make  us  a  visit,  and  see  for 
yourself."  He  turned  toward  the  door. 

"I  shall,  Duvall,  I  shall.  But  first  we.  have 
to  find  this  boy.  What  do  you  propose  to  do 
next?" 

Duvall  smiled.     "What  do  you?"  he  retorted. 

"A  bottle  of  champagne,  my  friend,  and  a  din 
ner  at  the  Cafe  Royale,  that  we  find  the  child 
before  you  do !" 

"Done!     Now  I'll  be  off.    Goodnight." 

The  Prefect  was  still  laughing  when  Grace 
peeped  in  from  the  private  office,  to  find  that 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  159 

Richard  had  gone.  "I  think  it's  a  shame  to  treat 
him  so,"  she  said.  "The  poor  fellow!  And  he 
would  have  gotten  the  kidnappers,  if  we  hadn't 
interfered." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  picked  up  the  package  con 
taining  Mr.  Stapleton's  money  and  placed  it  care 
fully  in  his  safe.  "Tomorrow  you  must  return 
it  to  him,"  he  said.  "And  then,  I  would  suggest 
that  you  keep  a  close  watch  upon  Mrs.  Stapleton. 
My  men  have  not  been  keeping  her  under  sur 
veillance.  We  have  had  no  suspicions  of  her 
whatever.  She  may,  if  she  is  concerned  in  this 
matter,  be  imprudent  enough  to  attempt  to  visit 
the  child." 

"And  if  not?" 

"Then  watch  Frangois.  If  nothing  comes  of 
your  efforts  in  either  direction,  I  fear  that  we 
must  wait  for  the  kidnappers  to  make  the  next 
move.  Of  course  there  is  Valentin — " 

"Valentin  is  innocent." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"I  have  watched  him.  He  did  everything  in 
his  power,  tonight,  to  assist  me.  Had  he  been 
in  league  with  the  kidnappers,  he  could,  after  he 
knew  that  I  had  secured  the  money,  easily  have 
driven  the  car  to  some  quiet  spot  and  taken  it 


160  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

from  me.  I  was  waiting  for  some  such  move; 
but  he,  as  you  know,  did  not  attempt  it.  I  am 
sure  that  he  is  doing  his  best  to  assist  us." 

"In  that  event,  perhaps  you  can  induce  him  to 
tell  you  the  secret  of  the  box  of  cigarettes.  I  feel 
sure  that  this  knowledge  would  go  far  toward 
solving  the  entire  affair." 

"I'll  have  a  talk  with  him  tomorrow." 

"Good!  And  now,  if  you  are  ready,  we  will 
return  home  at  once." 

"Dear  old  Richard!"  said  Grace,  as  the  Pre 
fect  helped  her  into  his  automobile.  "I  wish  I 
were  with  him  tonight." 

Lefevre  smiled,  and  patted  her  hand.  "So  do 
I,  my  dear.  But,  remember,  you  have  only  to 
find  Mr.  Stapleton's  child,  and  you  can  return  to 
your  chickens  and  your  cows  with  the  knowledge 
that  you  have  done  both  his  parents  and  myself 
an  inestimable  service." 


CHAPTER  XI 

IX  was  close  to  eight  o'clock  next  evening 
when  Grace  Duvall  arrived  at  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  house  with  the  package  containing  the 
money. 

She  was  accompanied,  for  safety,  by  two  men 
from  the  Prefecture,  who  escorted  her  to  the 
door. 

She  had  paid  a  previous  visit  to  the  house, 
during  the  forenoon;  but  Mr.  Stapleton  was  not 
at  home,  and  she  was  informed  that  he  would 
not  return  until  evening. 

Mrs.  Stapleton  she  saw  again;  but  her  talk 
with  the  latter  resulted  in  nothing.  The  poor 
lady  was  in  utter  despair,  after  the  fiasco  of  the 
night  before,  and  spent  the  day  in  her  rooms, 
weeping. 

It  was  quite  clear  to  Grace  that  her  grief  was 
very  real.  She  made  up  her  mind  that,  whatever 
the  mystery  of  the  gold-tipped  cigarettes,  Mrs. 
Stapleton  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Nor  had 

161 


162  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

the  chauffeur,  Valentin,  been  more  communica 
tive.  He  refused  pointblank  to  explain  the  pres 
ence  of  the  cigarettes  in  his  room,  or  the  reason 
why  Mary  Lanahan  had  written  requesting  him 
to  destroy  them.  He  said  that  it  was  a  matter 
which  concerned  only  the  nurse  and  himself,  and 
assured  Grace  that  an  answer  to  her  questions 
would  not  assist  in  the  least  in  recovering  the 
missing  child. 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  awaiting  her  in  the  library 
when  she  entered.  The  Prefect  had  telephoned 
him,  advising  him  that  the  money  was  safe,  and 
would  be  returned  to  him  at  once.  Beyond  that, 
he  knew  nothing,  except  what  Duvall  had  told 
him  the  night  before.  Consequently  he  was  in  a 
decidedly  bad  humor. 

Grace  laid  the  money  on  the  table.  "Here  is 
your  hundred  thousand  dollars,  Mr.  Stapleton," 
she  said. 

The  irate  banker  glared  at  her.  "I  cannot 
thank  you  for  bringing  it  back,  Miss,"  he  growled. 
"Did  I  not  particularly  request  that  the  police 
take  no  steps  in  the  matter?" 

"You  did,  Mr.  Stapleton;  but  we  acted  for 
what  we  thought  to  be  your  best  interests." 

"Hang  your  thoughts  about  my  best  interests! 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  163 

I  can  take  care  of  them.  If  you  had  let  things 
alone,  I'd  have  my  boy  back  by  now." 

"And  these  men,  these  criminals,  who  stole  him, 
would  be  at  liberty  to  do  the  same  thing  over 
again  tomorrow." 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "How 
did  the  thing  happen?"  he  presently  asked. 

Grace  told  him.  "The  real  cause  of  our  fail 
ure,  we  believe,  lies  at  the  door  of  your  chauffeur, 
Francois."  She  explained  the  reasons  for  their 
suspicions. 

Mr.  Stapleton  seemed  puzzled.  "The  fellow 
seems  honest  enough." 

"Where  is  he  now?"  Grace  inquired. 

"He  asked  permission  to  visit  his  people.  As 
I  had  no  use  for  him  this  evening,  I  told  him  he 
might  go." 

"Ah!  In  that  event,  we  may  learn  something. 
He  is  being  closely  watched." 

As  Grace  spoke,  a  servant  entered  the  room. 
"There  is  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said 
to  Mr.  Stapleton. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"He  would  not  give  his  name.  He  said  his 
business  was  urgent." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 


164  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"In  the  reception  room,  sir." 

Mr.  Stapleton  rose.  "Excuse  me  a  moment," 
he  said,  and  went  into  the  adjoining  room. 

The  library  was  separated  from  the  reception 
room  by  a  short  passageway,  or  alcove,  in  which 
hung  a  pair  of  heavy  curtains.  Grace  sat  quietly, 
waiting  for  Mr.  Stapleton  to  return.  Suddenly 
she  realized  that  she  could  distinctly  hear  what 
was  going  on  in  the  room  adjoining.  For  a  mo 
ment  she  thought  of  going  into  the  hall;  then 
a  word  or  two  caught  her  attention,  and  in  a 
moment  she  was  close  to  the  curtains,  listening 
intently  to  a  most  remarkable  conversation. 

The  man  who  had  asked  to  see  Mr.  Stapleton 
stood  in  the  reception  room,  near  a  broad  window 
overlooking  the  street  without.  He  was  tall  and 
somewhat  heavily  built;  but  what  at  once  attracted 
Grace's  attention  was  his  heavy  black  beard.  She 
recognized  him  at  once  as  the  man  who  had 
broken  into  Valentin's  room  to  steal  the  cigar 
ettes,  and  had  later  driven  the  car  which  brought 
her  back  to  Paris  after  her  abduction. 

He  was  speaking  to  Mr.  Stapleton  in  a  quiet 
and  assured  tone,  as  though  discussing  a  topic  of 
no  greater  importance  than  the  wreather. 

"Mr.  Stapleton,"  he  said,  "I  have  your  son  in 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  165 

my  possession.  He  is  quite  safe.  I  gave  you 
an  opportunity  to  have  him  returned  to  you  last 
night;  but  you  did  not  avail  yourself  of  it." 

"I  did  my  best,"  exclaimed  the  astounded 
banker,  mastering  his  desire  to  take  the  fellow  by 
the  throat. 

"That  may  be;  yet  my  plans  were  interfered 
with.  You  did  not  carry  out  my  instructions." 

"I  did— to  the  letter." 

The  man  frowned.  "It  is  useless  to  discuss 
the  matter  now,"  he  growled.  "I  come  to  give 
you  one  more  chance.  It  will  be  the  last — " 

"You  damned  scoundrel!" 

The  man  with  the  black  beard  held  up  his  hand. 
"It  will  avail  nothing,  Monsieur,"  he  said,  calmly, 
"to  excite  yourself.  If  you  want  back  your  boy, 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

"Very  well.     Go  ahead." 

"First,  I  want  no  interference  by  the  police, 
or  by  the  man  Duvall,  who  is  acting  for  you." 

Mr.  Stapleton  drew  back  in  astonishment. 
"How  do  you  know  that  Mr.  Duvall  is  acting  for 
me?"  he  said. 

"It  is  my  business  to  know,  Monsieur.  Let  it 
suffice  that  I  do  know.  If  you  hope  ever  to  see 
your  child  again,  you  had  better  listen  to  what 


166  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

I  have  to  say,  and  carry  out  my  instructions  to  the 
letter."  His  voice  was  harsh,  menacing. 

Mr.  Stapleton  directed  him  by  a  gesture,  to 
proceed.  He  was  too  angry  to  speak. 

"Tomorrow  night  at  this  hour — eight  o'clock 
— I  shall  come  here,  to  this  house,  and  ask  for 
you.  You  will  hand  me  a  package  containing  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  I  will  examine  the 
money  here,  and  satisfy  myself  that  the  amount 
is  correct. 

"I  shall  then  leave  the  house,  and  walk  to  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe;  which,  as  you  know,  is  but  a 
short  distance  away.  At  the  Arc  de  Triomphe, 
I  shall  wait  for  an  automobile,  which  will  stop 
for  me.  In  that  automobile  I  shall  drive  away. 
If  I  get  away  safely  without  interference,  there 
will  be  telephoned  to  your  house,  within  half  an 
hour,  the  address  of  the  place  where  your  boy 
is  to  be  found.  If  I  do  not  get  away  safely,  that 
address  will  not  be  telephoned  to  you,  and  you 
will  not  see  your  child  alive  again.  This 
is  your  last  chance,  Monsieur.  It  is  most  im 
portant,  I  assure  you,  that  nothing  should  hap 
pen  to  prevent  my  safe  departure  tomorrow 
night." 

For  a  moment  Grace  was  undecided  as  to  how 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  167 

she  should  act.  She  feared  greatly,  under  the 
circumstances,  to  make  any  move  which  would 
endanger  the  safety  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  child.  Yet 
her  duty,  as  an  agent  of  the  police,  was  clear. 
She  must  use  every  effort  to  effect  this  man's  cap 
ture,  before  he  left  the  house. 

She  knew  that  she  could  not  reach  the  street 
without  passing  the  door  of  the  reception  room, 
in  which  case  both  Mr.  Stapleton  and  his  caller 
would  see  her.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
telephone.  She  flew  to  a  small  alcove  room  which 
opened  off  the  rear  of  the  library,  in  which  she 
knew  the  telephone  instrument  was  located.  Once 
in  this  small  room,  she  closed  the  door,  for  fear 
the  others  might  overhear  her,  then  called  up  the 
Prefecture.  Monsieur  Lefevre  was  out;  but  she 
acquainted  one  of  his  assistants  with  the  circum 
stances,  and  requested  him  to  send  a  man  to  the 
house  at  once. 

It  would  take  at  least  ten  minutes,  perhaps 
more,  for  the  man  from  the  Prefecture  to  reach 
the  house  even  though  he  came  by  automobile,  as 
he  no  doubt  would.  What  should  she  do,  to 
keep  the  man  in  the  reception  room  from  leaving 
before  the  police  should  arrive? 

The  question  was  solved  for  her,  quite  unex- 


168  THE   BLUE  LIGHTS 

pectedly.  In  opening  the  door  of  the  small  room, 
to  re-enter  the  library,  she  accidentally  struck 
against  a  chair.  The  sound  aroused  both  Mr. 
Stapleton  and  his  visitor.  The  former,  who  had, 
in  his  excitement,  completely  forgotten  Grace's 
presence,  appeared  at  once  in  the  doorway  be 
tween  the  two  rooms.  "Come  here,  Miss  Gon- 
court,"  he  said  sternly. 

Grace  entered  the  reception  room.  The  man 
with  the  black  beard  eyed  her  keenly.  "Ah — a 
representative  of  the  police,  I  believe.  Our  con 
versation  has  been  overheard,  then,  Monsieur 
Stapleton?" 

The  banker  was  violently  angry.  He  turned 
to  Grace.  "You  have  heard?"  he  demanded. 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  insist  that  you  do  not  interfere  in 
the  matter  in  any  way.  I  intend  to  get  my  boy 
back  this  time,  in  spite  of  you  all." 

Grace  made  no  reply.  She  saw  the  man  writh 
the  black  beard  eying  her  keenly.  "I  think, 
Monsieur,  that  I  had  better  go,"  he  remarked. 

Grace  regarded  him  with  a  level  look.  "You 
cannot  leave  this  house,"  she  said.  "It  is  being 
watched.  If  you  attempt  to  do  so,  I  will  give 
the  alarm." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  169 

"And  for  what  reason  should  I  stay?"  the  man 
inquired  calmly. 

"I  have  telephoned  to  the  Prefecture.  A  man 
will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,  to  place  you  under 
arrest.  I  advise  you  to  remain  here  quietly  until 
he  arrives." 

The  kidnapper  strolled  over  to  the  window 
which  overlooked  the  Avenue  Kleber,  drew  aside 
the  curtain,  and  looked  out.  Grace  wondered 
if  he  was  making  a  signal  of  any  sort  to  con 
federates  outside.  He  gazed  into  the  street  in 
tently  for  a  moment,  then  turned  back  toward  the 
center  of  the  room.  "I  shall  follow  your  advice, 
Mademoiselle,  and  wait,"  he  remarked,  calmly. 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  speechless  with  rage.  He 
dared  not  do  anything;  for  he  knew  that  he  would 
only  lay  himself  open  to  a  charge  of  resisting  the 
police,  and  helping  a  criminal  to  escape.  He  sat 
in  his  chair,  inwardly  cursing  Grace  and  the  en 
tire  police  force  of  Paris  as  well. 

None  of  the  three  spoke  for  a  considerable 
time.  After  what  seemed  to  Grace  ages,  she 
heard  the  faint  ringing  of  the  doorbell,  and  pres 
ently  the  frightened  servant  arrived,  with  the 
information  that  a  detective  from  the  Prefecture 
was  in  the  hall,  and  desired  to  see  Mr.  Stapleton 


170  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

immediately.  He  had  scarcely  succeeded  in  de 
livering  this  message,  when  a  heavily  built  man 
in  citizen's  clothes  shouldered  past  him  into  the 
room. 

He  gazed  quickly  about.  Grace  did  not  re 
member  having  ever  seen  him  before.  "I  am 
from  the  Prefect  of  Police,"  he  announced,  strid 
ing  toward  the  kidnapper.  "I  am  here  to  arrest 
this  man."  In  a  moment  the  click  of  the  hand 
cuffs,  as  he  snapped  them  upon  the  wrists  of  the 
man  with  the  black  beard,  came  to  Grace's  ears. 

The  kidnapper  smiled  pleasantly.  "I  am  quite 
ready  to  accompany  you,  my  friend,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  regarding  the  scene  in  help 
less  rage.  He  resented  bitterly  the  way  in  which 
the  police  continually  interfered  with  his  plans  to 
get  back  his  child.  In  one  way,  he  was  glad  to 
feel  that  the  guilty  man  was  under  arrest;  but,  if 
it  resulted  in  the  death  of  the  missing  boy,  it 
would  be  a  tragedy,  indeed.  He  turned  to  the 
man  with  the  black  beard  who  stood,  smiling, 
near  the  door.  "I  hope  you  will  understand,"  he 
said,  "that  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  matter 
— nothing  whatever.  The  presence  of  this  woman 
here  was  a  pure  accident.  I  had  forgotten  that 
she  was  in  the  next  room.  I'd  be  glad  enough  to 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  171 

see  you  put  behind  the  bars  for  the  rest  of  your 
life;  but  not  if  it  is  going  to  prevent  me  from 
getting  back  my  child." 

The  man  with  the  black  beard  continued  to 
smile  pleasantly.  "I  believe  you,  my  friend,"  he 
said.  "However,  there  is  no  harm  done.  When  I 
return  tomorrow  night — for  I  shall  return,  de 
pend  upon  it,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  this  gen 
tleman,"  he  waved  his  hand  lightly  toward  the 
man  from  the  Prefecture,  "I  trust  that  you  will 
have  persuaded  Monsieur  Lefevre,  and  your  man 
Duvall  as  well,  to  let  me  do  so  in  peace.  It  is 
the  only  way  in  which  anything  can  be  accom 
plished — I  assure  you  of  that."  He  turned  to 
his  captor.  "I  am  ready  to  accompany  you,  Mon 
sieur." 

The  officer  started  toward  the  door  leading 
into  the  hall.  He  had  taken  but  a  single  step 
when  the  servant,  with  a  frightened  look  upon 
his  face,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "Mr.  Staple- 
ton,"  he  stammered,  "there  is  a  man  here  from 
the  office  of  the  Prefect  of  Police." 

Stapleton  strode  toward  the  door.  "Another?" 
he  exclaimed.  "What  does  this  mean?" 

The  man  in  charge  of  the  kidnapper  stepped 
forward,  speaking  in  a  quick,  low  tone.  "Leave 


172  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

the  matter  to  me,  Monsieur,'"'  he  whispered. 
"This  fellow  who  has  just  arrived  is  an  impostor, 
a  confederate.  He  pretends  to  be  an  agent 
of  the  police,  in  order  to  rescue  his  comrade,  who 
has  undoubtedly  signaled  to  him  from  the  win 
dow.  Be  good  enough  to  step  into  that  room," 
he  pointed  to  the  library,  "and  let  me  deal  with 
him." 

Mr.  Stapleton  hesitated.  "What  do  you  pro 
pose  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"Quick!"  said  the  other,  offering  no  explana 
tions.  "He  will  be  here  at  once."  He  turned 
to  the  astonished  servant.  "Bring  the  man  in." 

The  puzzled  banker  moved  toward  the  adjoin 
ing  room.  "You  will  accompany  him,  please,"  the 
Prefect's  man  said  to  Grace.  "There  may  be 
danger." 

"I  am  not  afraid,  Monsieur,"  replied  Grace, 
who  did  not  entirely  like  the  wray  things  were 
going. 

The  man,  however,  paid  no  attention  to  her 
remonstrances.  "Go — at  once,  I  command  you, 
in  the  name  of  the  law!" 

She  hesitated  no  longer,  but  followed  Mr. 
Stapleton  into  the  library.  As  she  did  so,  the 
new  arrival  entered  the  reception  room. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  173 

The  man  with  the  black  beard  stood  to  one 
side  of  the  doorway.  His  captor  advanced  to 
ward  the  newcomer.  "I  have  him  here,"  he  ex 
claimed,  pointing  to  the  kidnapper,  "safely 
ironed." 

"Who  are  you?"  curtly  inquired  the  man  who 
had  just  entered  the  room. 

"A  private  detective.  Here  is  your  man.  Let 
us  get  him  out  of  here  at  once." 

The  official  made  no  reply,  but  stepped  quickly 
up  to  the  man  with  the  black  beard.  "Come 
along  with  me,"  he  said,  roughly,  and  placed  his 
hand  upon  the  other's  arm. 

As  he  did  so,  the  kidnapper  shook  his  wrists 
briskly.  The  handcuffs  fell  clattering  to  the  floor. 
Without  a  word  he  threw  his  powerful  arms  about 
the  neck  of  the  astonished  official,  and  throttled 
him  into  instant  silence.  His  companion,  no  less 
quick,  whipped  out  a  handkerchief,  and  knotted  it 
about  the  official's  mouth.  He  was  unable  to 
utter  a  sound. 

The  whole  thing  was  so  quickly  done  that 
Grace,  who  was  watching  the  room  through  the 
curtains  in  the  doorway,  had  barely  time  to  utter 
a  cry,  before  the  newcomer  was  lying  helpless 
and  silent  upon  the  floor,  choked  into  insensibility; 


174  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

while  the  two  men,  quite  evidently  confederates, 
made  ready  to  go. 

The  black-bearded  fellow  quickly  replaced  the 
handcuffs  upon  his  own  wrists.  "Quick,  Ra- 
mond,"  he  cried.  "Let  us  get  out  at  once." 

Grace  was  by  this  time  in  the  room.  She  knew 
that  she  must  in  some  way  prevent  these  men 
from  escaping.  But  how — how?  They  glared 
at  her  ominously.  The  younger  man  drew  a 
revolver.  Before  any  of  them  could  speak,  the 
servant  appeared  in  the  doorway  for  the  third 
time.  His  face  was  pale  as  death.  His  knees 
knocked  together  from  terror  as  he  beheld  the 
gleaming  revolver,  the  man  lying  upon  the  floor. 

"Monsieur  Duvall  is  here!"  he  gasped,  and 
stood  silent. 

The  man  on  the  floor,  recovering  his  senses, 
began  to  struggle  to  his  feet.  As  he  did  so,  Du 
vall  pushed  his  way  past  the  frightened  servant 
and  strode  into  the  room. 

"Quick,  Monsieur  Duvall!"  the  fellow  with  the 
revolver  cried.  "I  am  from  the  Prefecture.  I 
have  one  of  the  kidnappers  in  irons.  The  other," 
he  pointed  to  the  struggling  man  on  the  floor, 
"is  about  to  escape  me.  Give  me  your  assistance 
at  once!" 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  175 

Grace  was  so  astounded  by  the  sudden  entrance 
of  her  husband,  as  well  as  by  the  kidnapper's 
words,  that  for  a  moment  she  remained  speech 
less.  Duvall  bent  over  the  man  upon  the  floor 
and  seized  him  by  the  throat. 

"Richard!  Richard!"  Grace  screamed,  for 
getful  of  Monsieur  Lefevre  and  her  own  disguise. 
"Look  out!" 

Almost  before  the  words  had  left  her  lips,  the 
man  with  the  revolver  brought  it  down  with  a 
dull  thud  upon  Duvall's  head  as  he  bent  over  the 
prostrate  man;  then,  grasping  his  companion  by 
the  arm,  he  rushed  from  the  room. 

"Richard!  Richard!"  screamed  Grace,  throw 
ing  her  arms  about  the  senseless  body  of  her 
husband. 

Mr.  Stapleton,  who  had  entered  the  room,  re 
garded  her  in  amazement.  "What  are  you 
doing?"  he  exclaimed. 

Grace  rose,  her  face  white  with  suffering.  "A 
doctor,  quick!  He  is  hurt!  My  God — don't  you 
see?  He  is  hurt!"  As  she  spoke,  she  fell  back, 
fainting,  to  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHEN  Richard  Duvall  returned  to  con 
sciousness,  an  hour  later,  he  lay  upon 
a  couch  in  Mr.  Stapleton's  library.  A 
doctor,  hastily  summoned,  was  bending  over  him. 
Mr.  Stapleton  sat  grimly  in  an  arm  chair.  There 
was  no  one  else  in  the  room. 

"My  wife!  Is  she  here?"  the  detective  cried, 
as  he  tried  to  rise. 

The  doctor  pushed  him  gently  back.  "Com 
pose  yourself,  Monsieur,"  he  said  in  a  soothing 
voice.  "You  are  not  badly  hurt.  Merely  stunned 
for  the  moment.  A  slight  cut — that  is  all.  You 
will  be  quite  yourself  again  in  half  an  hour." 

"But  my  wife!"  He  gazed  eagerly  about 
the  room. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Duvall?"  inquired  Mr. 
Stapleton,  calmly.  "Why  do  you  think  your  wife 
is  here?" 

"A  trace  of  delirium.  He  will  be  all  right  in 

176 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  177 

a  few  moments.  Very  usual  in  such  cases,"  the 
doctor  whispered. 

"I  heard  her  voice.  She  called  to  me  by  name, 
just  as  that  fellow  struck  me." 

"My  dear  sir,  your  mind  is  wandering.  Com 
pose  yourself,  I  beg."  The  doctor  attempted  to 
press  his  patient  back  upon  the  pillows. 

Duvall  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead,  com 
pletely  bewildered.  "I  could  have  sworn  I  heard 
her  voice,"  he  cried. 

"It  was  Miss  Goncourt,  the  young  woman  from 
the  Prefecture,  that  you  heard,  Duvall,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Stapleton  quietly.  He  did  not  tell 
the  detective  that  Grace,  on  recovering  from  her 
faint,  and  learning  from  the  doctor  that  Rich 
ard's  wound  was  a  superficial  one  only,  and  not 
at  all  serious,  had  sworn  them  both  to  secrecy, 
on  the  plea  that  the  matter  was  a  purely  private 
one,  and  likely  to  cause  her  great  unhappiness 
if  divulged.  Mr.  Stapleton  had  agreed,  but  had 
done  so  only  upon  her  agreeing  not  to  acquaint 
the  police  with  his  plans  for  the  following  night. 

She  had  suddenly  conceived  a  violent  animosity 
toward  these  fellows  who  had  not  only  baffled 
both  her  husband  and  herself,  but  had  made  the 
former  a  victim  of  a  dangerous  assault.  She  was 


178  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

determined  to  go  to  work  in  desperate  earnest, 
to  capture  them,  or  locate  the  child,  before  the 
following  evening.  She  had  promised  Mr. 
Stapleton  not  to  acquaint  Monsieur  Lefevre  with 
the  plan  for  returning  the  child  which  the  man 
with  the  black  beard  had  proposed.  The  situa 
tion  put  her  on  her  mettle.  She  determined  to 
get  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair  before 
another  twenty-four  hours  had  passed.  Upon 
leaving  the  house  she  called  a  taxicab,  and  at 
once  ordered  the  chauffeur  to  drive  her  to  the 
point  on  the  Verseilles  road  where,  according  to 
Valentin,  she  had  been  placed  in  the  automobile 
after  her  interview  with  the  kidnappers.  Here, 
she  believed,  lay  the  starting  point  of  the  whole 
mysterious  affair. 

Duvall,  his  consciousness  returning,  insisted 
upon  getting  up  from  the  couch,  and  going  to 
work  with  equal  determination.  The  way  in 
which  he  had  been  checkmated,  in  the  whole 
affair,  roused  him,  as  well,  to  desperation.  His 
professional  skill,  upon  which  the  banker  had  set 
such  great  store,  seemed  to  have  deserted  him. 
He  felt  humiliated,  ashamed.  In  three  days,  he 
had  accomplished  nothing  whatever.  It  was  gall 
ing  in  the  extreme. 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  179 

Mr.  Stapleton's  explanations  of  his  hallucina 
tion  regarding  his  wife  he  accepted  as  true.  The 
resemblance  which  Miss  Goncourt  bore  to  Grace, 
together  with  his  constant  thoughts  of  her,  were, 
he  argued,  no  doubt  responsible  for  it.  The 
blow  upon  the  head  made  his  recollections  of  the 
moments  immediately  preceding  and  following 
the  assault  extremely  hazy.  He  put  the  matter 
out  of  his  mind,  and  set  to  work  with  renewed 
energy. 

So  far,  it  seemed,  he  had  met  with  but  a  single 
clue  of  any  importance, — the  cigarette  with  the 
gold  tip  which  he  had  found  in  the  Bois  de  Bou 
logne.  He  determined  to  follow  this  clue  until 
he  arrived  at  some  definite  result. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  had  departed  after  dress 
ing  the  wound  in  his  head,  Duvall  took  a  stiff 
drink  of  brandy,  and,  sitting  down  with  Mr. 
Stapleton  at  the  latter's  desk,  began  to  reconstruct, 
as  far  as  he  could,  all  the  details  of  the  kidnap 
ping.  He  spoke  his  thoughts  aloud,  taking  Mr. 
Stapleton  into  his  confidence,  since  in  this  way 
he  could  most  readily  get  his  ideas  into  concrete 
form. 

"Mr.  Stapleton,  I  am,  I  confess,  greatly  humil 
iated  at  the  progress,  or  lack  of  progress,  which 


180  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

I  have  made  in  this  case  so  far.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind,  however,  to  get  these  fellows,  if  it  takes 
me  the  rest  of  the  summer." 

"You  will  have  to  work  more  quickly  than  that, 
Mr.  Duvall,"  observed  the  banker  coldly.  "I 
have  made  arrangements  to  recover  my  child  by 
tomorrow  night." 

"You  are  going  to  buy  these  rascals  off,  then?" 

"Yes." 

"How?" 

"I  decline  to  say.  I've  had  enough  interference 
with  my  plans  already.  Neither  you  nor  the 
police  have  accomplished  anything.  Miss  Gon- 
court  knows  what  I  propose  to  do;  but  she  has 
given  me  her  word  not  to  interfere.  If  you  are 
to  accomplish  anything,  it  must  be  before  eight 
o'clock  tomorrow  night." 

"Very  well.  I  will  make  my  plans  accord- 
ingly." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"That  I  cannot  say,  at  the  moment.  I  think, 
however,  that  I  shall  first  try  to  find  out  who  it 
is  that  smokes  these  gold-tipped  cigarettes."  He 
drew  the  fragment  of  cigarette  which  he  had 
found  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  it  on  the 
desk  before  him  regarded  it  critically. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  181 

Mr.  Stapleton  gave  a  grunt.  "What  are  they, 
Exquisites?" 

"Yes.     How  did  you  know?" 

The  banker  laughed.  "Easy  enough.  My  wife 
smokes  them." 

The  detective  looked  up  quickly.  "Indeed! 
Brings  them  from  America  with  her,  I  suppose." 

"Yes." 

Duvall  began  mentally  to  check  off,  in  his  mind, 
the  various  persons  who  might  have  used  the 
cigarette  wrhich  lay  before  him.  Valentin,  he 
now  believed,  was  out  of  the  question.  His  pres 
ence  in  the  automobile,  with  Grace,  the  night 
before,  indicated  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  kidnappers. 

There  remained  Mrs.  Stapleton.  Duvall  had 
talked  with  her — seen  her  grief.  He  was  too 
shrewd  a  judge  of  human  nature  to  think  for  a 
moment  that  it  was  assumed. 

Who  else?  Suddenly  an  idea  flashed  into  his 
mind.  He  wondered  that  he  had  not  thought  of 
it  before.  The  nurse !  He  recalled  vividly  the 
marks  he  had  observed  on  the  dresser  in  the 
woman's  room  in  New  York. 

"Is  Mary  Lanahan  in  the  house?"  he  inquired 
of  Stapleton. 


182  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"Kindly  have  her  come  here." 

Mr.  Stapleton  pressed  a  button  on  his  desk  in 
silence.  In  a  few  moments,  the  nurse  had  been 
brought  to  the  room  by  one  of  the  other  servants. 
She  was  haggard  with  grief  and  fear. 

Duvall  requested  her  to  be  seated,  and  began 
to  ask  her  a  number  of  apparently  unimportant 
questions  regarding  the  kidnapping. 

She  answered  them  frankly  enough,  although 
it  was  clear  that  she  was  very  ill  at  ease. 

Presently  Duvall  got  up,  and,  calling  Mr. 
Stapleton  to  one  side,  asked  him,  in  a  low  tone, 
to  detain  the  nurse  in  the  library  for  a  few  mo- 
.ments.  He  wished  to  search  her  room. 

"But  it  has  already  been  thoroughly  searched 
by  the  police." 

"I  know.  But  I  must  search  it  again.  It  will 
require  but  a  few  moments." 

Stapleton  nodded.  "I  will  wait  for  you  here, 
Mr.  Duvall,"  he  said.  "Mary,  you  will  wait, 
as  well." 

The  nurse's  room  was  on  the  third  floor,  in  a 
rear  building.  Duvall  found  it,  after  some  slight 
difficulty,  with  the  assistance  of  one  of  the  other 
servants. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  183 

He  seemed,  on  entering  the  room,  to  have  but 
one  object  in  view.  He  went  at  once  to  the  man 
tel,  and,  taking  from  it  the  two  small  bottle-shaped 
vases  which  stood  upon  it,  shook  them  both  vig 
orously.  A  faint  rattling  sound  came  from  the 
second.  He  turned  it  upside  down  upon  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  and  there  tumbled  out  a 
quantity  of  ashes,  and  the  butts  of  several 
partly  smoked  cigarettes.  With  a  quiet  smile  he 
replaced  them  in  the  vase,  and  returned  to  the 
library. 

"Mary,  you  may  go  now,"  he  said. 

When  the  woman  had  gone,  he  turned  to  Mr. 
Stapleton.  "It  was  Mary  Lanahan  herself  who 
smoked  the  cigarette  which  I  found  in  the  grass," 
he  said. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  The  matter  seemed  to 
the  banker  to  be  utterly  without  significance. 

"She  had,  no  doubt,  stolen  them  from  Mrs. 
Stapleton." 

"Very  likely.  Not  a  very  serious  matter,  how 
ever." 

"No.  But  the  question  now  arises,  Why  did  she 
turn  the  box  over  to  Valentin,  and  subsequently 
ask  him  to  destroy  it?" 

"I  cannot  imagine." 


184  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"And  why,  later,  were  these  cigarettes  stolen 
from  Valentin,  as  I  understand  they  were?"' 

ult's  too  much  for  me.  What  do  you  make 
of  it?" 

"I  have  a  theory,  Mr.  Stapleton;  but  I  cannot 
say  just  what  it  is — yet.  By  the  way,  where  is 
your  man,  Francois,  tonight?" 

"He  is  visiting  his  people,  somewhere  in  the 
suburbs." 

"Ah!  Then  I  would  like  to  search  his  room, 
as  well." 

"Go  ahead.  You  will  find  nothing,  I  fear. 
The  police  have  gone  over  it  with  a  fine-tooth 
comb."  He  rose.  "Come  along,  I'll  go  with  you." 

The  room  occupied  by  the  chauffeur  was  at  the 
very  top  of  the  house,  with  two  windows  opening 
through  the  slanting  mansard  roof.  One  of 
these,  Duvall  noted,  commanded  a  view  over  the 
houses  adjoining  toward  the  north,  beyond  which 
could  be  seen  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
A  second  window,  toward  the  south,  commanded 
an  extensive  view  toward  Passy. 

Mr.  Stapleton,  puffing  because  of  the  unaccus 
tomed  stairs,  sat  down  upon  the  bed.  "I  cannot 
imagine  what  you  hope  to  find  here,  Duvall,"  he 
grumbled. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  185 

The  detective  made  no  reply,  but  began  a  sys 
tematic  inspection  of  the  room.  One  of  the  first 
objects  which  attracted  his  attention  was  an  or 
dinary  electric  searchlight,  of  the  pocket  variety, 
lying  on  the  man's  dresser.  He  picked  it  up,  and 
examined  it  carefully. 

"I  got  it  for  Frangois,"  observed  Mr.  Staple- 
ton,  "so  that  he  could  examine  the  car,  at  night, 
in  case  of  any  accident  or  repair." 

"Of  course.  Very  useful,  too.  But  why,  I 
wonder,  does  he  keep  it  here  in  his  room,  instead 
of  in  the  garage?" 

"Possibly  to  light  himself  up  the  stairs,  at 
night,"  said  Stapleton. 

"Then  I  should  think  he  would  have  it  with 
him,"  remarked  Duvall,  dryly.  "Wouldn't  be 
of  much  use  to  him  tonight,  for  instance."  He 
was  about  to  put  the  thing  down,  when  his  at- 
ention  was  attracted  by  two  objects,  hanging  one 
on  each  side  of  the  dresser,  from  its  two  uprights. 
They  were  apparently  Christmas  tree  ornaments, 
made  of  thin  glass,  and  they  hung  from  the  back 
of  the  dresser  by  means  of  two  bits  of  ribbon. 

They  seemed  at  first  glance  to  be  merely  sou 
venirs  of  some  party,  some  entertainment,  which 
the  chauffeur  had  preserved  as  mementos  of  the 


186  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

occasion.  They  were  shaped  like  little  cups,  with 
a  paper  fringe  about  the  top,  to  which  the  gay  rib 
bons  were  attached.  Duvall  had  seen  such  orna 
ments  often  before,  at  Christmas  time.  They  were 
intended  to  be  hung  from  the  tree  by  their  ribbons, 
and  were  filled  with  small  candies  or  bonbons. 
He  had  almost  passed  them  by,  when  something 
in  their  colors  caused  him  to  pause.  One  was  a 
deep  blue,  the  other  an  equally  deep  red.  He 
examined  the  wooden  uprights  of  the  dresser 
with  great  care.  All  along  the  top  of  the  dresser 
at  its  back  was  a  heavy  coating  of  dust.  The  top 
of  the  uprights,  over  which  the  loops  of  ribbon 
which  supported  the  little  baskets  had  been 
passed,  contained  no  dust  whatever. 

Evidently  the  baskets  had  been  taken  down, 
and  that  too  quite  recently.  For  what  purpose? 
he  wondered.  Suddenly  he  had  an  inspiration. 
He  took  down  the  little  blue  basket,  and  quickly 
placed  it  over  the  end  of  the  searchlight.  It 
fitted  perfectly,  the  paper  collar  at  its  top  holding 
the  glass  hemisphere  snugly  in  place. 

Mr.  Stapleton  was  watching  Duvall  without 
particular  interest.  Suddenly  the  detective  pointed 
the  searchlight  toward  him  and  pressed  the  but 
ton  which  threw  on  the  current.  Mr.  Stapleton 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  187 

started  back,  as  his  face  was  flooded  with  a  beam 
of  brilliant  blue  light. 

Duvall  replaced  the  little  basket  in  the  same 
position  in  which  he  had  found  it,  and  laid  the 
searchlight  upon  the  dresser.  "Rather  neat, 
isn't  it?"  he  exclaimed. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  asked  the  banker. 

"YouT  man  Frangois  evidently  is  in  the  habit 
of  making  signals,"  the  detective  replied,  laugh 
ing.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  hopeful.  The 
search  of  the  two  rooms  was  bearing  fruit. 

For  the  next  half-hour,  Duvall  went  over  the 
contents  of  the  chauffeur's  room  with  the  utmost 
care.  He  removed  and  replaced,  just  as  he  found 
them,  the  contents  of  the  dresser  drawers.  He 
opened  a  small  wooden  trunk  which  stood  at  one 
side  of  the  room,  and  examined  its  contents  mi 
nutely.  He  explored  the  closet,  looked  behind  the 
pictures,  sounded  the  walls.  Nothing  further  of 
an  unusual  nature  rewarded  his  efforts.  Still  he 
seemed  unsatisfied. 

"What  more  can  you  hope  to  find,  Mr.  Du 
vall?"  inquired  the  banker,  who  had  begun  to 
find  the  proceedings  tiresome. 

The  detective  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
and  glanced  about  in  some  perplexity.  "I  had 


188  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

hoped  to  find  one  thing  more,"  he  said;  "but 
I  am  afraid  it  isn't  here." 

Suddenly  he  strode  over  to  the  mantel,  upon 
which  stood  a  small  nickel-plated  alarm  clock  of 
American  make. 

"This  clock  doesn't  seem  to  be  going,"  he  re 
marked,  then  whipped  out  his  magnifying  glass 
and  carefully  studied  the  brass  handle  which  pro 
jected  from  the  back,  by  which  it  was  wound  up. 
"It  hasn't  been  wound  for  several  days,  either. 
The  back  is  covered  with  dust."  He  picked  up 
the  clock  and  tried  to  wind  it;  but  the  handle  re 
sisted  his  efforts. 

In  an  instant  he  took  out  his  knife,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  was  removing  the  screws  which  held 
the  metal  back  of  the  clock  in  place. 

Mr.  Stapleton  watched  him  curiously.  Duvall's 
methods  savored,  to  him,  of  the  accepted  sleuth 
of  fiction.  He  took  little  stock  in  the  tiny  clues 
upon  which  the  whole  modern  science  of  crim 
inology  is  built. 

In  a  few  moments  the  detective  had  removed 
the  screws  and  lifted  out  the  rear  plate  of  the 
clock.  As  he  did  so,  he  gave  a  grunt  of  satis 
faction.  A  small  pasteboard  box  fell  out  upon, 
the  mantel. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  189 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Stapleton. 

"The  box  of  cigarettes,"  remarked  Duvall,  as 
he  opened  it.  "There  are  three  missing.  I  shall 
take  a  fourth."  He  selected  one  of  the  paper- 
covered  tubes,  placed  it  within  his  pocketbook, 
then  thrust  the  box  back  into  the  clock,  and  rapidly 
replaced  the  metal  plate. 

"I  don't  think  there  is  anything  further  to  be 
done  here,  Mr.  Stapleton,"  he  remarked.  "I 
think  I'll  be  getting  along  to  my  room.  Tomor 
row  I  shall  be  quite  busy." 

He  stopped  for  a  moment,  on  his  way  out,  to 
glance  from  the  window  which  faced  toward  the 
north.  Between  the  buildings  and  trees  ran  the 
Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne,  its  course  illumi 
nated  by  many  street  lamps,  and  the  flashing  lights 
of  passing  motor  cars.  Duvall  gazed  intently  at 
the  scene  before  him  for  a  few  moments,  then 
turned  to  the  door,  and,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Stapleton,  descended  the  stairs. 

As  he  was  about  to  leave  the  house,  the  banker, 
who  evidently  had  something  on  his  mind,  stopped 
him. 

"Mr.  Duvall,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "I  would 
like  very  much  to  know  what  you  intend  to 
do." 


190  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"I'm  going  to  catch  these  fellows,  if  I  possibly 
can,"  the  detective  replied,  earnestly. 

"What  steps  do  you  propose  to  take?" 

"I  cannot  exactly  say — yet.  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"I'll  tell  you.  The  fellow  who  was  here  to 
night,  the  one  with  the  black  beard,  is  coming  to 
see  me  tomorrow  night,  at  eight  o'clock.  I  can 
not  tell  you  more  than  that.  I  did  not  intend  to 
tell  you  that  much — but  I  am  obliged  to  do  so." 

"Obliged!     Why?" 

"Because  I  want  your  promise  that  you  will 
make  no  attempt  to  stop  him.  If  I  had  said  noth 
ing,  you  might  have  watched  the  house,  and,  upon 
recognizing  the  fellow  as  the  one  who  was  here 
tonight,  have  placed  him  under  arrest.  I  want 
you  to  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  either  his 
coming  or  his  going.  He  will  be  safe,  after  he 
once  leaves  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  in  his  automo 
bile." 

"But  the  police?" 

"They  know  nothing  of  the  matter.  Miss  Gon- 
court  has  given  me  her  word  to  remain  silent. 
She  has  even  agreed  to  have  the  men  on  watch 
about  the  house  withdrawn.  Both  you  and  the 
police  may  do  your  best  to  catch  this  man,  after 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  191 

I  have  carried  out  my  compact  with  him;  but  until 
then  I  want  you  to  keep  your  hands  off." 

Duvall  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "Very  well, 
Mr.  Stapleton,  I  shall  do  as  you  say.  In  fact, 
to  assure  you  that  I  am  carrying  out  your  wishes, 
I  will  agree  to  remain  here  with  you,  at  the 
house,  throughout  the  evening." 

"Good!     I  shall  expect  you.     Good  night." 

"Good  night."  Duvall  left  the  house,  and  went 
at  once  to  his  hotel. 

Here,  a  few  moments  later,  he  seated  himself 
in  an  easy  chair,  and  taking  from  his  pocket  the 
cigarette  which  he  had  secured  in  the  chauffeur's 
room,  regarded  it  critically. 

After  some  little  time,  he  took  a  match  from 
a  box  upon  a  nearby  table,  and,  placing  the  gold 
tip  of  the  cigarette  between  his  lips,  carefully  lit 
it. 

He  drew  the  smoke  into  his  lungs,  inhaling  it 
deeply.  Once — twice — three  times  he  repeated 
the  operation,  then  threw  himself  back  into  his 
chair,  and,  closing  his  eyes,  sat  buried  in  thought. 
In  his  preoccupation,  he  allowed  the  end  of  the 
cigarette  to  fall  unheeded  to  the  floor. 

After  many  minutes  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
started  up.  "I've  got  it!"  he  cried,  and,  picking 


192  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

up  the  half-burned  cigarette  from  the  floor,  threw 
it  carelessly  into  the  fireplace. 

Then  he  sat  down  at  his  table,  drew  out  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  a  map  of  the  city  of  Paris, 
and  began  to  make  a  series  of  drawings  and  cal 
culations  that  occupied  him  far  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  the  taxicab 
containing  Grace  Duvall  stopped  alongside 
the  road,  at  a  point  some  four  miles  beyond 
the  city,  in  the  direction  of  .Versailles.     She  had 
been  unable  to  give  the  driver  the  exact  location 
at  which  she  desired  to  be  put  down,  but  had 
directed  him  to  drive  on  until  she  told  him  to 
stop. 

The  spot  was  quite  familiar  to  her,  owing  to 
the  hours  she  had  spent  in  the  vicinity  with  the 
searching  party  the  day  before. 

The  taxicab  driver  seemed  rather  surprised  to 
see  her  alight  at  this  somewhat  lonely  spot;  but 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  true  Parisian  in 
difference,  pocketed  the  tip  she  gave  him,  and 
drove  rapidly  off  in  the  darkness. 

Left  to  herself  by  the  roadside,  Grace  began 
to  fear  that  she  had,  after  all,  done  a  rather 
foolish  thing.  Now  that  she  was  here,  she  hardly 
knew  how  to  begin. 

193 


194  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

All  about  her  she  saw  the  dark  outlines  of 
cottages  among  the  trees,  with  here  and  there  a 
straggling  light  which  betokened  some  household 
late  in  getting  to  bed.  The  country  people  in 
this  vicinity — growers  of  flowers  and  vegetables 
or  dairymen  for  the  most  part — were  asleep  with 
their  cows  about  the  time  that  Paris  began  to 
dine. 

Occasionally  the  silence  about  her  was  broken 
by  the  mournful  howling  of  a  dog;  but  otherwise 
all  was  still. 

The  night  was  cloudless,  and  the  lightening  of 
the  sky  toward  the  east  told  her  that  before  long 
a  moon  would  rise  above  the  trees. 

Near  the  road  she  found  a  little  rustic  bench, 
and  upon  this  she  sat  down  to  think. 

The  howling  of  the  dog  had  suggested  to  her 
mind  a  possible  clue  to  the  house  within  which 
Mr.  Stapleton's  boy  had  been,  for  a  time  at  least, 
confined.  She  could  remember  nothing  of  the 
garden,  and  but  little  of  the  room  in  which  she 
had  been  confined;  but  the  dog,  playing  upon  the 
grass  with  the  child,  had  fixed  itself  in  her  mem 
ory.  She  recollected  distinctly  that  he  was  a 
poodle,  mostly  black,  with  fine  curling  hair,  like 
astrakhan  fur,  and  a  pointed  nose. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  195 

There  were  many  dogs  of  this  sort,  she  well 
knew,  and  yet  there  was  one  peculiarity  which 
had  impressed  itself  upon  her  memory,  which 
would  inevitably  serve  to  identify  this  particular 
dog,  should  she  ever  see  him  again.  His  long 
and  bushy  tail,  black  for  the  most  part  like  the 
rest  of  his  body,  terminated  in  a  plume  of  white 
hair. 

It  was  a  most  unusual  marking  in  a  French 
poodle.  She  had  never  seen  it  before,  and  she 
was  a  great  lover  of  dogs,  and  knew  them  thor 
oughly.  It  was  this  fact,  no  doubt,  which  had 
caused  her  to  notice  the  animal,  at  a  time  when 
her  mind  was  filled  with  matters  of  vastly  greater 
importance. 

She  had  sought  carefully  for  such  a  dog,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  previous  search,  but  had  not 
found  him.  The  tale  about  the  escaped  cobra 
had  caused  the  country  folk  to  lock  up  their  pets 
without  loss  of  time. 

Now  she  hoped  to  find  this  dog,  and  through 
him  discover  the  location  of  the  house  in  which 
she  had  been  confined.  'After  that — well,  she 
would  do  the  best  she  could. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  not  at  all 
likely  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  black 


196  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

poodle  by  sitting  here  on  a  bench;  yet  she  dared 
not  start  out  until  the  moon  had  risen  sufficiently 
high  to  light  up  her  way. 

In  about  an  hour,  the  rim  of  the  golden  disk 
showed  itself  above  the  treetops,  and  a  little 
later  the  black  shadows  about  her  began  to  grow 
luminous,  and  resolve  themselves  into  white- 
walled  cottages,  hedges,  and  outbuildings  of  va 
rious  sorts. 

A  narrow  lane  ran  off  from  the  main  road, 
bordered  on  each  side  by  lindens  and  poplars. 

Along  this  lane  the  houses  of  the  little  hamlet 
were  set,  some  near  the  road,  others  quite  a  dis 
tance  back.  She  rose,  and  began  to  walk  slowly 
along  the  lane. 

As  she  had  expected,  dogs  of  various  sorts  and 
sizes,  to  judge  by  their  voices,  began  barking  as 
soon  as  she  came  opposite  the  first  house.  A 
small  fox  terrier  ran  through  the  gateway  of  a 
garden,  yelping  sharply.  The  deep-toned  bay 
ing  of  a  hound  sounded  farther  up  the  street. 
A  small  white  poodle,  and  a  black  one  of  the 
same  size,  ran  after  her,  as  slie  went  along, 
making  friendly  attempts  to  play.  The  one  she 
sought,  however,  seemed  nowhere  in  evidence. 

The  lane  ascended  a  gently  sloping  hill,  at  the 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  197 

top  of  which  stood  a  house,  somewhat  larger 
than  the  others,  whose  outbuildings  and  pastures 
proclaimed  it  to  be  a  dairy  farm.  There  was  a 
hedge  of  roses  along  the  roadside,  and  a  little 
wooden  gate. 

Grace  heard  a  sharp  bark  on  the  other  side 
of  the  gate  as  she  passed  it,  and,  stopping,  glanced 
over.  In  the  shadow  stood  a  black  poodle;  but 
whether  his  tail  showed  the  markings  for  which 
she  sought  she  was  unable  to  tell  on  account  of 
the  darkness.  She  gave  the  gate  a  gentle  push, 
and  it  slowly  opened.  The  dog  ran  out  into  the 
road.  As  he  crossed  a  patch  of  moonlight,  she 
saw  that  her  search  was  ended.  This,  she  was 
convinced,  was  the  dog — and  the  house ! 

Her  next  problem  was  how  to  get  inside.  Try 
as  she  would,  she  could  think  of  no  excuse  which 
would  adequately  account  for  her  presence  in  this 
little  frequented  locality  at  such  a  time  of  night. 
That  the  occupants  of  the  house  had  long  ago 
retired  was  evidenced  by  the  blackness  of  the 
windows,  the  silence  which  brooded  over  the 
whole  place. 

She  looked  about  her.  Just  across  the  lane 
from  the  little  gate  a  building  loomed  formless 
against  a  shadowy  clump  of  trees.  She  went  over 


198  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

to  it,  and  found  that  it  was  a  small  shed.  The 
door  stood  open.  Inside  stood  a  tumbledown  old 
wagon,  dust  covered,  and  quite  evidently  unused 
for  a  long  time.  The  shelter  of  the  shed  seemed 
grateful — as  though  she  had  arrived  somewhere, 
instead  of  being  a  wanderer  in  the  night. 

There  seemed  nothing  to  do,  now,  but  wait  for 
daylight.  She  climbed  into  the  creaking  wagon 
and  sat  upon  the  seat.  There  was  a  back  to  it, 
which,  like  the  seat,  was  covered  with  old  and 
torn  velveteen.  She  leaned  back  in  the  shadow 
and  closed  her  eyes.  Her  walk,  the  night  air, 
had  made  her  tired.  In  the  distance  she 
heard,  after  a  long  time,  the  faint  booming 
of  a  bell.  She  looked  at  her  watch.  It  was  mid 
night. 

The  next  thing  that  Grace  remembered  was  the 
loud  barking  of  a  dog.  She  sat  up,  feeling  stiff 
and  cold.  Her  neck  and  left  shoulder  ached  pain 
fully.  A  glance  through  the  open  door  of  the 
shed  told  her  that  it  was  still  night;  but  there  was 
a  gray  radiance  in  the  air,  a  soft  pale  light,  that 
betokened  the  coming  of  dawn. 

She  crept  stiffly  down  from  the  wagon,  and 
again  consulted  her  watch.  It  marked  the  hour 
of  four.  Through  a  dusty  window  in  the  side 


THE^BLUE   LIGHTS  199 

of  the  shed  she  saw  the  eastern  sky,  rose  streaked 
and  bright,  heralding  the  sun. 

As  the  light  increased,  she  saw  the  dog  that 
had  disturbed  her  sleep  running  about  on  the 
grass  in  front  of  the  house  opposite.  The  house 
seemed  much  nearer,  in  the  daylight,  than  it  had 
appeared  at  night.  She  examined  the  dog  closely. 
The  white  tip  of  his  tail,  waving  gaily  in  the  morn 
ing  light,  showed  her  that  it  was  the  one  she  had 
sought. 

She  crouched  in  the  dim  shadow  of  the  half- 
open  door  and  watched  the  scene  before  her. 
There  was  a  man,  moving  about  among  the  small 
buildings  to  the  right.  She  heard  him  perform 
ing  some  task — she  could  not  at  first  make  out 
what.  Presently  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the  rattle 
of  a  bucket,  as  it  was  drawn  up  by  a  creaking 
windlass,  told  her  that  the  man  was  tending  his 
cows. 

Quite  half  an  hour  later  she  saw  him  going 
toward  the  house,  a  pail,  evidently  well  filled,  in 
each  hand. 

Then  ensued  another  long  silence.  The  curl 
ing  wisp  of  smoke  from  the  chimney  of  the  cot 
tage  indicated  breakfast,  and  Grace  suddenly 
realized  that  she  felt  cold,  and  hungry.  For  the 


200  THE  [BLUE'  'LIGHTS 

first  time  in  her  life  she  realized  how  important 
one's  breakfast  is,  in  beginning  the  day. 

Presently  the  man  reappeared  and  went  toward 
a  small  building  which  Grace  took  to  be  the  barn. 
She  could  see  him  clearly  now;  for  the  sun  had 
risen  above  the  trees  and  lit  up  the  whole  scene 
brilliantly.  He  was  a  small,  wizened  man,  with 
gray  hair  and  a  slight  stoop.  She  was  quite  cer 
tain  that  she  had  never  seen  him  before. 

He  went  to  the  barn,  and  she  saw  that  he  was 
engaged  in  harnessing  a  horse,  which  he  presently 
attached  to  a  farm  wagon.  She  noted  the  wagon 
particularly.  It  was  a  low  two-wheeled  affair, 
with  a  dingy  canvas  top.  A  large  patch  in  the 
canvas  showed  yellow-white  in  the  sunlight.  The 
horse  was  white. 

In  a  little  while  the  man  began  to  put  in  the 
cart  a  variety  of  objects  which  he  brought  from 
the  barn.  They  appeared  to  be  baskets  of  vege 
tables  or  fruit,  and  cans  of  milk.  Presently  he 
stopped,  and  went  toward  the  house.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  returned.  This  time  a  woman  was 
with  him.  They  carried  between  them  a  large 
wicker  basket,  which  appeared  to  be  quite  heavy. 
There  was  a  top  on  the  basket.  Grace  wondered 
if  it  could  be  filled  with  laundry. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  201 

The  couple  placed  the  basket  in  the  wagon, 
putting  it  in  from  the  front,  so  that  it  occupied 
a  position  close  beside  the  driver.  In  getting  it 
up  over  the  wheel  the  woman  let  her  end  of  it 
slip,  and  the  man  cursed  her  with  such  sudden 
sharpness  that  Grace  was  startled  and  crouched 
back  into  the  shed.  She  wondered  what  the 
basket  could  contain,  that  made  the  man  so  care 
ful,  and  the  thought  came  to  her,  might  it  not 
be  Mr.  Stapleton's  boy? 

The  idea  possessed  her  completely.  As  the 
man  drove  out  into  the  lane,  and  rattled  down 
the  hill  toward  the  main  road,  she  suddenly  real 
ized  that  she  must  follow;  yet  how  could  she 
hope  to  do  so,  on  foot?  The  woman  had  gone 
back  into  the  house.  Regardless  of  consequences, 
Grace  ran  out  into  the  lane,  and  after  the  wagon 
at  full  speed. 

When  she  reached  the  main  road  the  vehicle 
had  already  turned  into  it  and  was  some  distance 
away,  headed  for  Paris,  at  a  speed  which,  slow 
for  a  horse,  was  still  much  faster  than  she  could 
possibly  walk. 

She  looked  up  and  down  the  road  helplessly. 
There  were  several  other  wagons  approaching, 
all  going  in  the  same  direction — cityward.  She 


202  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

realized  that  they  were  country  people,  farmers, 
taking  their  vegetables  and  flowers  to  the  mar 
kets. 

The  first  one  to  reach  her  was  driven  by  a 
buxom-looking  young  woman,  wearing  a  plaid 
shawl.  Grace  hailed  her.  "Will  you  be  so  good, 
Madame,  as  to  take  me  to  Paris?" 

The  woman  glanced  at  her  shrewdly.  "I  have 
a  heavy  load,  Mademoiselle,"  she  replied.  Her 
voice  was  cold,  uninterested. 

"I  will  pay  you  five  francs — " 

The  words  had  barely  left  Grace's  lips,  be 
fore  the  woman  had  pulled  up  her  horse.  "Five 
francs,  Mademoiselle?  That  is  another  matter. 
Get  in." 

Grace  clambered  up  beside  the  woman  and 
glanced  down  the  road  ahead.  The  canvas-cov 
ered  wagon  was  still  in  sight — mounting  a  hill 
some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  ahead. 

The  woman  looked  at  her  curiously,  noting 
her  dress,  her  hands,  her  shoes.  "You  are  not 
of  the  country,  Mademoiselle,"  she  remarked, 
pleasantly. 

"No.  I  belong  in  Paris."  She  turned  to  her 
companion.  "I  should  like  to  return  there  as 
quickly  as  possible." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  203 

"My  Susette  does  not  care  to  go  above  a  walk," 
the  woman  remarked,  gazing  at  her  horse,  plod 
ding  along  with  mechanical  steps,  as  though  ut 
terly  unconcerned  as  to  whether  or  not  they  ever 
reached  Paris.  The  wagon  ahead  was  now  out 
of  sight,  over  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

"Would  you  like  to  make  a  louis?"  Grace 
took  a  gold  piece  from  her  purse  and  held  it  in 
the  sunlight.  It  glistened  brightly. 

The  woman  drew  back,  regarding  her  com 
panion  suspiciously.  "A  louis?  Who  would  not? 
What  do  you  mean,  Mademoiselle?" 

"There  is  a  wagon  ahead  of  us,  a  canvas-cov 
ered  wagon,  with  a  white  horse.  I  am  following 
it.  If  you  will  keep  that  wagon  in  sight  until 
we  get  to  Paris,  I  will  give  you  this  louis." 

She  turned  the  gold  piece  about,  making  it 
sparkle  in  the  sun.  The  woman  glanced  first 
at  her  face,  then  more  carefully  at  the  coin,  then, 
reaching  over,  took  it  in  her  fingers,  and  raised 
it  to  her  mouth.  Grace  wondered  what  she  was 
about  to  do.  In  a  moment  she  had  sunk  her  teeth 
into  It,  then  returned  it  to  her  companion.  "It 
shall  be  as  you  say,  Mademoiselle,"  she  exclaimed 
as  she  pulled  in  the  reins.  "Allons,  Susette!" 

The  horse,  evidently  awakened  from  his  morn- 


204  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

ing  dreams,  started  forward  with  a  suddenness 
which  almost  precipitated  Grace  from  her  seat. 
The  trees  along  the  roadside  began  to  fly  past 
them.  In  ten  minutes  they  were  close  behind 
the  canvas-covered  wagon,  now  moving  along  at 
a  brisk  pace. 

When  they  reached  the  fortifications,  the  two 
wagons  were  separated  by  not  more  than  a  dozen 
feet.  Grace's  companion  glanced  at  her  sharply. 
"From  here  I  go  to  Grennelle,  Mademoiselle," 
she  exclaimed. 

Grace  looked  at  the  wagon  ahead.  "FolloTV 
it,  please,"  she  said.  "I  will  give  you  another 
five  francs." 

The  woman  obeyed  in  silence.  The  wagon  in 
front  of  them  headed  off  toward  the  northwest, 
going  In  the  direction  of  Passy.  Before  a  great 
while  it  crossed  the  Pont  de  Passy,  turned  into 
the  Rue  Nicolo,  and  came  to  a  stop  before  a 
small  brick  house,  standing  in  a  little  garden. 

Grace  jumped  down  at  the  corner,  after  giving 
the  woman  the  louis  and  the  additional  five  francs. 
"Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  started  slowly  up  the 
street. 

The  wagon  with  the  canvas  cover  stood  quietly 
alongside  the  curb.  The  old  man  who  drove  it 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  205 

had  approached  the  door  of  the  house,  and  was 
ringing  the  bell. 

Presently  one  of  the  windows  on  the  top  floor 
was  thrown  open,  and  a  man's  head  was  thrust 
out.  Grace  could  not  see  his  face  clearly.  He 
looked  down  at  the  man  at  the  door,  who  at  the 
same  time  looked  up.  The  window  was  instantly 
closed,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  door  of  the 
house  opened  and  the  man  came  out. 

He  stood  talking  with  the  driver  in  low  tones 
for  a  few  moments.  Grace  had  walked  on  up 
the  street,  fearing  to  attract  attention.  Looking 
back,  she  saw  that  the  two  men  were  gazing  after 
her.  She  dared  not  turn  her  head  again,  but  at 
the  next  corner  turned  into  a  cross  street.  Then 
she  stopped,  and  cautiously  peered  around  the 
corner.  The  two  men  had  gone  to  the  wagon 
and  were  lifting  out  the  large  basket.  A  few 
moments  later  they  disappeared  with  it  into  the 
house. 

After  a  time,  the  old  man  returned  with  the 
basket  in  his  hands.  From  the  way  he  carried  it 
Grace  could  see  that  it  was  empty.  Fie  tossed 
it  carelessly  into  the  wagon,  mounted  the  seat, 
and  drove  off. 

Grace  looked  at  her  watch.     It  was  half  past 


206  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

seven.  She  felt  cold  and  hungry,  and  determined 
to  get  something  to  eat  at  once.  A  little  pastry 
cook's  shop  and  restaurant  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street  attracted  her  attention,  and  she 
crossed  over,  entered,  and  ordered  rolls  and  cof 
fee.  She  could  see  the  windows  of  the  house  into 
which  the  two  men  had  carried  the  basket,  from 
where  she  sat. 

She  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  next.  It  seemed 
.  almost  certain  that  Mr.  Stapleton's  child  was  in 
the  house  across  the  way,  and  yet — it  was  merely 
an  intuition,  a  guess,  which  might  turn  out  to 
be  entirely  wrong.  Yet  she  feared  to  go  away, 
not  knowing  at  what  moment  the  child,  if  he  was 
indeed  there,  might  be  taken  elsewhere,  and  the 
clue  hopelessly  lost. 

She  finished  her  rolls  and  coffee,  taking  as 
much  time  to  consume  them  as  she  could.  She 
had  just  made  up  her  mind  to  go,  when  the  door 
of  the  house  across  the  street  opened,  and  a  man 
came  out.  He  was  dark,  and  heavily  built,  and 
dressed  in  the  costume  affected  by  artists.  He 
headed  directly  for  the  pastry  shop,  and  Grace 
realized  that  he  was  about  to  enter  it. 

She  turned  her  face  away,  fearing  lest  he  might 
have  noticed  her,  as  she  walked  up  the  street. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  207 

He  did  not  even  glance  in  her  direction,  however, 
but  went  at  once  to  a  counter  at  the  rear  of  the 
place. 

The  proprietor  came  up  to  him  with  q,  smile, 
rubbing  his  hands  together  cheerily.  "Ah ! 
Monsieur  Durand.  Up  early  this  morning,  I 
see.  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

She  did  not  catch  the  other's  reply,  nor  did  she 
dare  to  glance  at  his  face.  She  shrank  back  into 
her  corner,  and,  picking  up  a  newspaper  which 
lay  in  the  window  sill,  began  to  read. 

The  new  customer  remained  but  a  few  mo 
ments.  When  he  left,  Grace  saw  that  he  carried 
a  large  paper  bag  with  him,  which  appeared  to 
contain  rolls  or  bread. 

He  again  entered  the  house,  but  this  time  re 
mained  inside  but  a  few  moments.  A  little  later 
she  left  the  shop,  and  watched  him  as  he  dis 
appeared  down  the  street. 

For  half  an  hour  she  walked  about,  wondering 
whether  she  should  telephone  Monsieur  Lefevre 
now,  or  wait  until  she  had  made  certain  that  the 
whole  affair  was,  after  all,  not  a  wild  goose  chase! 
Suddenly  she  was  seized  with  a  new  determina 
tion.  She  went  boldly  up  to  the  house,  and  rang 
the  bell. 


208  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

In  a  few  moments  a  sleepy-looking  maid 
opened  the  door,  eying  Grace  with  lazy  indiffer 
ence. 

"I  wish  to  see  Monsieur  Durand,"  the  latter 
said. 

"He's  out." 

"Then  I  must  wait.  I  am  a  model.  He  in 
structed  me  to  come  at  eight  o'clock,  and  to  wait 
until  he  returned." 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  pointed 
to  the  stairs.  "Top  floor  front,"  she  grumbled, 
and  turned  away. 

Grace  lost  no  time  in  getting  up  the  stairs.  To 
her  surprise,  the  door  of  the  studio,  upon  which 
was  a  card  bearing  Monsieur  Durand's  name,  was 
unlocked.  She  pushed  her  way  boldly  in,  and 
looked  about.  The  room  was  scantily  furnished, 
and  contained  little  besides  a  couple  of  modeling 
stands,  several  large  plaster  figures  and  casts,  two 
chairs,  and  a  couch,  evidently  used  as  a  bed.  At 
the  rear  of  the  room  was  a  closet.  She  turned 
to  it  and  threw  it  open.  It  contained  only  an 
assortment  of  clothes. 

She  felt  completely  baffled.  There  was  no  pos 
sible  place,  here,  in  which  the  child  she  was  seek 
ing  could  be  hidden.  Evidently  she  had  been  on 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  209 

the  wrong  track.  And  yet — what  had  the  wicker 
basket  contained? 

Suddenly  she  stopped,  quivering  with  excite 
ment.  From  somewhere  in  the  room — she  could 
not  tell  where — there  came  a  low  sobbing  sound, 
as  of  a  child,  crying  to  itself.  It  vibrated  through 
out  the  room,  at  one  moment  close  to  her  ears, 
the  next  far  off,  intangible,  like  a  whispered 
echo.  She  stood,  listening,  every  nerve  tense  with 
excitement,  and  still  that  low  sobbing  went  on, 
coming  from  nowhere,  evanescent  as  a  dream. 

The  thing  seemed  unreal,  horrifying.  She 
gazed  about  helpless.  Then  she  heard  the  front 
door  of  the  house  suddenly  slam,  followed  by  the 
sound  of  heavy  footsteps  on  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RICHARD  DUVALL  rose,  the  following 
day,  with  a  less  troubled  mind  than  at 
any  time  since  his  arrival  in  Paris. 

His  calculations  of  the  night  before  had 
brought  him  to  a  definite  conclusion. 

After  breakfasting  in  the  cafe  of  the  hotel  he 
returned  to  his  room,  and  rang  up  Monsieur 
Lefevre. 

"I  want  the  assistance  of  one  of  your  men, 
Monsieur,"  he  said. 

"Ah!"  laughed  the  Prefect.  "You  are — what 
you  Americans  call — up  a  tree,  is  it  not?" 

"Not  at  all.  You  have  said  that  there  existed 
between  us  a  competition,  to  recover  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  child.  I  think  I  am  going  to  win.  But  since 
I  am  not  in  a  position  to  make  the  necessary  ar 
rests,  myself,  I  am  going  to  share  the  glory  with 
you,  my  dear  friend,  by  allowing  one  of  your 
men  to  do  so  for  me." 

"So  you  are  confident?" 

210 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  211 

"Reasonably  so.  Can  you  spare  Vernet  for  the 
day.  He  is  a  good  man." 

"One  of  my  best.  You  shall  have  him.  And 
if  you  succeed,  I  shall  still  regard  myself  the 
loser,  and  will  buy  the  champagne,  and  the  dinner 
at  the  Cafe  Royale,  as  I  agreed." 

"And  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  the  same 
should  I  fail.  Oblige  me  by  requesting  Vernet 
to  come  to  my  rooms  at  the  hotel  at  once.  Good 
by." 

Duvall  hung  up  the  receiver,  and  sat  down  with 
the  drawings  he  had  made  before  him.  He 
awaited  the  coming  of  Vernet  with  impatience. 

The  latter  appeared  in  some  twenty  minutes. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur  Duvall?" 
he  asked. 

"Good  morning,  Vernet.  Sit  down,  and  have 
a  cigar.  I  have  a  little  matter  I  wish  to  talk  over 
with  you." 

"Concerning  the  missing  child  of  Monsieur 
Stapleton,  I  understand,"  remarked  Vernet,  as  he 
lit  a  cigar  and  drew  his  chair  up  to  the  table. 
Fie  glanced  at  the  drawings  before  him.  "What 
are  these,  may  I  ask?" 

Duvall  took  up  his  pencil.  "This,  Vernet,  is  a 
map  of  a  small  part  of  Paris.  Here,  as  you  see, 


212  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

is  the  Avenue  Kleber,  terminating  at  the  Champs 
Elysees  just  in  front  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe." 

"I  see.     It  is  quite  plain." 

"Here — this  black  square — is  Mr.  Stapleton's 
house.  From  there  to  the  arch  is  a  matter  of 
some  six  hundred  yards." 

"About  that,  I  should  say.    What  of  it?" 

"Wait.  The  black-bearded  fellow — the  kid 
napper — who  visited  Mr.  Stapleton  last  night, 
and  escaped  by  the  ruse  of  being  arrested  by  one 
of  his  confederates,  will  arrive  at  Mr.  Stapleton's 
house  at  eight  o'clock  tonight." 

"Mon  Dieu!     If  that  is  so,  we  have  him!" 

"Not  so  fast.  We  shall  not  interfere  with  him 
—then." 

"But,  Monsieur,  would  you  let  this  fellow  es 
cape?  It  is  my  duty  to  arrest  him,  as  soon  as  he 
puts  in  an  appearance." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Yernet.  Your  duty  is  to 
do  as  I  instruct  you.  Monsieur  Lefevre  has 
placed  you  under  my  orders  for  the  day." 

Vernet  laughed.  "That  is  so,"  he  said. 
"What  do  you  wisK  me  to  do?" 

"The  man  will  come  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house 
at  eight  o'clock,  and  will  be  given  a  large  sum 
of  money.  He  has  agreed,  if  he  is  not  interfered 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  213 

with,  to  have  the  address  where  the  boy  may  be 
found  telephoned  to  Mr.  Stapleton  within  half 
an  hour." 

"Ah !  Then  we  shall  follow,  and  get  him  after 
he  has  telephoned." 

Duvall  laughed.  "We  are  dealing  with  a  far 
shrewder  man  than  that,  Vernet.  This  fellow  will 
do  no  telephoning." 

"Then  how  will  he  let  Monsieur  Stapleton 
know?" 

"That  is  just  what  I  am  trying  to  find  out.  Put 
yourself  in  his  place.  He  is  known — he  dare  not 
remain  in  Paris — he  gets  five  hundred  thousand 
francs  to  give  up  the  child.  Is  it  not  natural  to 
suppose  that  he  will  leave  the  city  at  once?" 

"Yes.    That  is  what  I  should  do,  in  his  place." 

"Of  course.  Now  I  understand  that  the  fellow 
will  walk  from  Mr.  Stapleton's  house  to  the  Arc 
de  Triomphe,  a  distance  of  six  hundred  yards. 
He  can  do  that  easily  in  ten  minutes." 

"Yes." 

"Once  at  the  arch,  he  will  stand  awaiting  a 
fast  automobile,  which  will  come  along  the 
Champs  Elysees.  This  automobile  will  stop  for 
an  instant  and  pick  him  up,  then  proceed  at  high 
speed  along  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne." 


214  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

"Why  do  you  think  that?" 

"Because  it  will  afford  him  the  quickest  and 
safest  road  out  of  Paris.  From  the  arch  to  the 
Porte  Dauphine  is  less  than  a  mile.  He  can  make 
it  in  five  minutes.  In  fifteen  minutes  altogether 
then,  he  is  outside  the  walls.  In  another  fifteen 
minutes,  he  is  beyond  pursuit,  in  the  country." 

"But  you  forget,  Monsieur  Duvall,  that  he  has 
not  yet  advised  his  confederates  that  all  is  well, 
and  that  the  address  of  the  place  where  the  boy 
is  hidden  is  to  be  telephoned  to  Mr.  Stapleton." 

"No,  Vernet,  I  haven't  forgotten  that.  In 
fact,  I  am  coming  to  it  now.  Suppose  you 
were  in  this  fellow's  place — how  would  you  do 
it?" 

Vernet  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully.  "He 
might  fire  a  pistol  from  the  car." 

"Too  dangerous.  The  noise  of  the  ex 
plosion  would  attract  attention.  He  must  work 
silently." 

"A  wave  of  the  hand,  perhaps,  to  someone 
along  the  street." 

"Also   dangerous.      This   fellow   realizes   that 

every  possible  step  will  be  taken  to  capture  not 

only  himself,   but  his   confederates.      He   antici- 

"  pates,  no  doubt,  that  the  road  will  be  carefully 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  215 

watched.  Why  take  chances,  and  run  the  risk  of 
his  confederates,  at  least,  being  arrested,  when 
there  are  simpler,  easier  ways?" 

"Such  as  what?" 

"Do  you  not  remember  the  signal,  used  on  the 
Versailles  road,  the  blue  light?" 

"Ah!  Exactly.  He  will  signal  to  some  one 
in  a  house  along  the  way." 

"That  would  be  easier  and  safer;  but  you  will 
remember  that  there  are  no  houses  along  the 
way — none,  at  least,  in  which  a  man  of  this  sort 
could  have  a  confederate  hidden.  But  I  should 
not  say  none.  There  is  one,  perhaps." 

"Indeed,  Monsieur.     And  what  house  is  that?" 

"Mr.  Stapleton's.  Look!"  He  drew  toward 
him  the  sheet  of  paper.  "Here,"  he  placed  the 
point  of  his  pencil  upon  the  black  square  which 
indicated  the  location  of  the  banker's  residence, 
"is  the  house.  The  north  window  of  a  room  on 
the  top  floor  commands  a  view  of  the  Avenue 
du  Bois  de  Boulogne,  from  a  point  some  500  feet 
west  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  to  where  it  inter 
sects  the  Avenue  Malakoff.  Beyond  there,  the 
view  is  interrupted.  In  fact,  the  trees  along  the 
Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne  are  to  some  extent 
an  obstruction;  but  at  the  crossing  with  the  Ave- 


216  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

nue  Malakoff  there  is  a  wide  and  uninterrupted 
view." 

"But  a  confederate  in  Monsieur  Stapleton's 
own  house?" 

"Yes.    The  chauffeur,  Francois." 

"You  astonish  me,  Monsieur.  We  have  sus 
pected  the  fellow,  it  is  true.  The  very  room  of 
which  you  speak  has  been  searched.  We  found 
nothing.  How  do  you  know  that  what  you  say 
is  true?" 

"Never  mind  how  I  know  it — now.  The  point 
is  this — Francois,  I  fully  believe,  will  be  in  that 
room,  tonight,  at  eight  o'clock,  watching  carefully 
the  automobiles  which  pass  the  intersection  of  the 
Avenue  Malakoff — " 

"Not  necessarily,  Monsieur.  We  can  easily 
prevent  it,  by  placing  him  under  arrest." 

"That  is  exactly  what  we  must  not  do.  Don't 
you  see,  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  for  the  re 
covery  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  child,  that  the  signals 
go  through  uninterrupted?" 

"Of  course,  I  had  forgotten  that.  And  these 
signals?" 

"Naturally  I  cannot  tell — yet.  I  think,  how 
ever,  that  the  automobile  for  which  Francois  will 
be  looking  will  show  a  brilliant  blue  light,  while 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  217 

crossing  the  Avenue  Malakoff.  That  is,  of 
course,  if  our  friend  the  kidnapper  gets  safely 
away,  without  being  pursued." 

"And  otherwise?" 

"I  think  the  light  would  be  red.  He  can  make 
either,  very  simply,  by  means  of  a  powerful  elec 
tric  searchlight — one  of  these  pocket  affairs,  you 
know,  fitted  with  colored  glasses." 

"You  interest  me  wonderfully,  Monsieur  Du- 
vall.  What  next?" 

"It  is,  of  course,  most  important  that  the  signal 
given  shall  be  the  correct  one.  There  must  be 
no  interference  whatever  with  this  fellow's  escape 
— up  to  that  point." 

"Ah — I  begin  to  see.     And  what  after  that?" 

"First,  let  us  continue  with  Francois.  He  will, 
I  think,  return  a  blue  signal  to  the  man  in  the 
automobile,  to  show  that  he  has  seen,  and  under 
stood.  He  has  the  means  to  do  so  all  ready,  in 
his  room." 

"And  then?" 

"He  will  make,  I  think,  a  similar  signal  from 
his  south  window  to  some  one  who  is  on  watch, 
in  the  direction  of  Passy.  This  second  person,  who 
no  doubt  has  the  child  in  his  care,  will  then  go 
to  a  telephone,  transmit  the  address  of  the  house 


218  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

where  the  child  is  hidden,  to  Mr.  Stapleton,  and 
quietly  depart,  to  join  his  confederate  in — say — 
Brussels.  He  will  run  not  the  slightest  risk  of 
capture.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  that  message 
fails  to  go  through,  the  address  will  not 
be  telephoned,  and  the  child  will  probably  be 
killed." 

Vernet  frowned  grimly.  "It  is  a  remarkable 
plan,  Monsieur.  These  fellows  are  no  bunglers. 
I  think,  however,  that  we  shall  be  able  to  stop 
them." 

"How?" 

"I  will  station  myself  at  the  Porte  Dauphin 
with  a  fast  automobile,  a  racer.  When  these  fel 
lows  pass,  I  will  follow  them,  and  overtake 
them." 

"An  excellent  idea,  Vernet;  but  how,  may  I 
ask,  will  you  know  the  car,  when  it  passes  you? 
There  are  hundreds  of  cars  on  the  Avenue  du 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing." 

Vernet  laughed.  "I  confess,  Monsieur,  you 
have  me  there." 

"Of  course  you  might  station  a  man  at  the  in 
tersection  of  the  Avenue  Malakoff  and  the  Ave 
nue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne;  but  I  do  not  think  he 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  219 

would  be  able  to  see  the  signal.  By  placing  on 
the  end  of  the  searchlight  a  paper  tube,  the  light 
would  be  invisible  except  in  the  direction  in 
which  it  is  pointed — and  that,  you  will  remember, 
is  diagonally  upward.  A  man  on  the  sidewalk 
would  not  see  it  at  all." 

"Then,  Monsieur,  I  fail  to  see  that  there  is 
anything  we  can  do." 

"There  is  one  thing,  Vernet.  You  forget  the 
answering  signal,  from  the  window." 

The  Frenchman  looked  at  his  companion  with 
undisguised  admiration.  "Sacre!"  he  exclaimed. 
"You  have  a  mind,  Monsieur  Duvall,  in  a  thou 
sand." 

"Thanks,"  answered  Duvall,  dryly.  "Now,  my 
idea  is,  to  have  you  select  some  point  near  the 
intersection  of  the  two  avenues,  from  which  the 
window  in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  house  can 
be  clearly  seen.  Station  yourself  there,  tonight, 
with  the  fastest  automobile  you  can  secure.  Let 
r>  one  man  watch  the  window,  another  the  vehicles 
passing  in  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne.  The 
moment  you  see  the  blue  light,  start  after  your 
man.  He  should  be  just  across  the  intersection, 
on  his  way  down  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Bou 
logne." 


220  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

Vernet  rubbed  his  hands  together  with  satis 
faction.  "We  shall  get  him — never  fear." 

"Of  course,"  said  Duvall,  slowly,  "all  this  is 
pure  assumption  on  my  part,  based  upon  wliat  I 
have  discovered  in  the  chauffeur's  room.  It  may 
not  turn  out  as  I  say,  but  the  chances  are  fifty  to 
one  that  it  will." 

"And  you,  Monsieur?    Where  will  you  be?:' 

"I  shall  be  in  the  room,  with  Francois.  I  do 
not  propose  that  he  shall  escape.  And  further — I 
do  not  know  that  I  am  correct,  in  my  assumption 
regarding  his  signals  to  Passy.  He  may  go  out, 
and  send  the  telephone  message  himself.  In  that 
case,  I  shall  follow.  Or  he  may,  through  some 
unforeseen  accident,  get  the  wrong  signal,  in 
which  case  I  propose  to  overpower  him,  and  give 
the  right  one.  Suppose  we  go,  now,  and  take  a 
look  at  the  intersection  of  the  Avenue  Malakoff 
and  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  see 
what  arrangements  can  best  be  made.  Also,  if 
Mr.  Stapleton  is  out  in  his  car,  we  may  be  able 
to  take  a  few  observations  from  his  chauffeur's 
window."  He  took  up  his  hat,  lighted  a  cigar, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  door. 

They  drove  to  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  in  a  cab, 
and,  after  dismissing  it,  walked  slowly  down  the 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  221 

Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne.  At  the  intersection 
with  the  Avenue  Malakoff  they  stopped  and  gazed 
about  carefully,  although  in  such  a  way  as  not 
to  attract  attention.  A  brief  inspection  served 
to  confirm  all  that  Duvall  had  said.  It  took  them 
some  little  time  to  locate  the  window  in  the  rear 
of  Mr.  Stapleton's  house;  but  after  a  time  they 
managed  to  do  so,  and  saw  that  it  commanded 
an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  point  where  they 
stood. 

Vernet  was  highly  satisfied,  as  they  parted.  It 
was  deemed  unnecessary  for  him  to  visit  the 
chauffeur's  room,  and  thereby  run  the  risk  of  their 
being  seen  entering  the  banker's  house  together. 
Vernet  departed  to  make  his  arrangements  for 
the  evening,  strictly  cautioned  by  his  companion 
not  to  let  Monsieur  Lefevre  into  his  secret.  "It 
is  a  bet,"  he  told  Vernet.  "I  hope  we  shall  suc 
ceed  in  winning  it." 

After  his  companion  had  departed,  Duvall 
dropped  in  to  see  Mr.  Stapleton.  He  learned 
that  the  banker  was  out,  driving  in  the  Bois  with 
Mrs.  Stapleton,  who,  overcome  by  anxiety  and 
grief,  had  great  need  of  the  fresh  air  to  retain 
her  health.  She  was  fast  breaking  down  under 
the  strain. 


222  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

Duvall  went  up  to  have  another  look  at  the 
chauffeur's  room.  He  had  been  unable  to  get 
a  thoroughly  clear  idea  of  the  view  from  the 
window,  the  night  before,  owing  to  the  dark 
ness. 

He  found  everything  as  he  had  left  it, — the 
searchlight  on  the  dresser,  the  colored  glass  or 
naments  hanging  from  their  gay  ribbons.  The 
north  window  overlooked  with  perfect  clearness 
the  intersection  of  the  two  avenues,  as  he  and 
Vernet  had  seen  them  from  below.  The  other 
window  presented  a  more  distant  view.  Nearby 
roofs  and  chimneys  obstructed  it  in  part;  but  be 
tween  them  could  be  seen  the  villas  and  buildings 
in  Passy,  smiling  in  the  sunlight.  The  sight  im 
pressed  Duvall  the  more  strongly  with  the  clever 
ness  of  the  men  he  sought  to  arrest.  Somewhere 
in  all  that  maze  of  buildings,  that  wide  vista 
of  houses  and  trees  and  distant  fields,  Mr.  Staple- 
ton's  child  lay  concealed,  and  it  needed  but  a 
flash  of  light  from  this  wrindow  to  set  him  free. 
Passing  his  fingers  idly  along  the  window  sill, 
Duvall  suddenly  observed  two  parallel  scratches 
in  the  white  paint,  wrhich  had  apparently  been 
made  with  the  point  of  a  knife.  He  knelt  down, 
and  sighted  between  them.  His  line  of  vision 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  223 

swept  clear  of  the  nearby  roofs   and  chimneys, 
toward  Passy. 

The  detective  turned  from  the  window,  a  smile 
of  satisfaction  on  his  face,  and  proceeded  to  make 
a  careful  examination  of  the  chauffeur's  closet. 
It  was  here  that  he  intended  to  lie  hidden.  He 
felt  certain  that,  in  order  the  better  to  perceive 
and  send  his  signals,  as  well  as  to  escape  detection 
from  below,  the  chauffeur  would  allow  his  room  to 
remain  unlighted. 

This,  Duvall  reasoned,  would  render  it  easy 
for  him  to  lie  concealed  until  the  signal  which 
would  insure  the  safe  return  of  the  lost  child  had 
been  given,  after  which  he  would  call  upon 
Francois  with  precision  and  despatch.  Should 
anything  occur  to  prevent  the  chauffeur  from  giv 
ing  the  favorable  signal,  he  proposed  to  give  it 
himself. 

The  closet  was  close  to  the  north  window,  and 
its  door  opened  in  such  a  way  that  Duvall  saw  at 
once  that  in  the  darkened  room  he  could  readily 
open  it  sufficiently  to  see  all  that  Francois  did, 
without  running  any  serious  risk  of  detection. 

He  left  the  house  at  a  little  after  noon  and 
stopped  in  at  a  well  known  restaurant  on  the 
Boulevard  des  Italiens  for  lunch.  He  felt  very 


224  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

well  satisfied  with  the  course  that  events  were 
taking.  If  only  he  could  get  through  with  this 
thing,  and  get  back  to  Grace,  and  the  farm,  he 
would  be  supremely  happy.  He  became  so  ab 
sorbed  in  his  thoughts  that  he  failed  to  notice  a 
gentleman  who  slipped  quietly  into  the  chair  op 
posite  him,  until  the  latter  leaned  over  and 
touched  his  arm. 

He    looked   up    suddenly.      It   was    Monsieur 
Lef  evre ! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  few  seconds  that  elapsed  while  Grace 
Duvall  stood  in  the  deserted  studio  in 
Passy,  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  per 
son  who  was  ascending  the  stairs,  seemed  like 
eternities,  so  crowded  were  they  with  terror. 

What  should  she  do — what,  indeed,  could  she 
do?  A  dozen  plans  raced  madly  through  her 
brain,  confusing  her,  baffling  her  with  their 
futility. 

That  the  missing  boy  was  within  the  sound  of 
her  voice,  she  knew;  for  even  as  she  stood  trem 
bling  at  the  ominous  footsteps  on  the  creaking 
stairs,  she  could  hear  the  low  troubled  childish 
moaning,  coming  apparently  from  the  very  air 
in  front  of  her,  yet  affording  not  the  slightest 
clue  as  to  the  boy's  whereabouts. 

She  glanced  about  the  room  in  desperation. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  creaking  footfalls 
on  the  stairs.  She  dared  not  leave  the  room  now, 
and  thereby  meet  the  approaching  man  face  to 

225 


226  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

face  on  the  landing;  yet  to  remain  where  she  was 
would  result  only  in  her  being  obliged  to  make 
some  lame  and  halting  excuse  for  her  presence, 
and  go,  as  sjon  as  the  man  entered  the  room. 

Even  this  she  could  not  count  upon.  The  fel 
low,  no  doubt  a  desperate  and  unscrupulous  ruf 
fian,  might  attack  her,  might  detain  her  a  pris 
oner  until  the  child  had  been  safely  removed  to 
another  place,  beyond  all  hope  of  discovery.  All 
the  work  of  the  past  twelve  hours  would  come  to 
nothing.  And  even  should  he  let  her  go,  in 
safety,  he  could  not  fail  to  suspect  the  reasons 
for  her  presence  and  warn  his  companions. 

Clearly  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  remain  in 
the  room,  in  hiding.  There  was  but  one  place 
in  which  she  could  hope  to  escape  instant  detec 
tion — the  closet.  Yet  even  this  promised  but  tem 
porary  safety;  the  man  would  be  almost  certain 
to  open  it,  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  dis 
cover  her  presence. 

It  was  her  only  chance,  however,  and  she  took 
it.  Even  as  the  footsteps  of  the  approaching 
man  sounded  upon  the  landing  outside,  Grace 
flew  across  the  room  and  into  the  closet,  closing 
the  door  softly  behind  her.  In  her  haste,  one 
arm  of  a  velveteen  coat  which  hung  upon  a  hook, 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  227 

became  jammed  in  the  door,  with  the  result  that 
it  would  not  entirely  close.  She  realized  that  it 
was  too  late  to  remedy  the  trouble  now,  and 
crouched  back  trembling  with  excitement. 

The  jamming  of  the  door  had  caused  it  to  re 
main  slightly  open,  with  a  space  half  an  inch 
broad  between  it  and  the  casing.  Through  this, 
Grace  could  see  a  part  of  the  room  before  her. 
She  watched  the  door  to  the  hallway  intently,  as 
it  was  thrown  open. 

The  man  she  had  seen  in  the  pastry  shop  came 
in,  several  packages  in  his  hands.  These  he 
placed  upon  a  table,  and  at  once  began  to  prepare 
breakfast.  A  small  alcohol  lamp  served  for 
coffee,  and  butter,  rolls,  and  fruit  he  produced 
from  the  paper  bags  before  him.  There  was 
also  a  bottle  of  milk.  Grace  wondered  if  this 
was  intended  for  the  child. 

The  man  went  about  his  preparations  silently. 
Grace  occasionally  obtained  a  good  view  of  his 
face.  He  was  apparently  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  dark  and  swarthy.  There  was  something  fa 
miliar  about  his  manner,  his  general  appearance; 
although  what  it  was,  she  could  not  tell.  She  was 
certain,  however,  that  she  had  seen  him  before. 

Once  or  twice  he  made   a  move,   as  though 


228  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

to  approach  the  closet;  but  each  time  it 
was  something  else  that  claimed  his  attention. 
Once  it  was  to  get  a  package  of  cigarettes  that 
lay  upon  one  of  the  modeling  stands.  Grace  won 
dered  what  she  would  have  done,  had  he  kept  on 
toward  her,  and  opened  the  closet  door. 

She  fell  to  thinking,  in  momentary  snatches, 
about  home,  and  Richard.  How  curious  it  seemed 
for  them  both  to  be  here  in  Paris,  separated  for 
all  these  days,  yet  so  near  each  other!  She  won 
dered  if  Richard  had  written  to  her,  and  what 
he  would  think,  not  to  have  heard  from  her. 
Then  she  remembered  that  after  all  he  had  been 
in  Paris  but  a  few  days — there  was  scarcely  time 
for  a  letter  to  have  reached  him.  She  thought 
of  Uncle  Abe,  pottering  about  among  the  flower 
beds,  of  Aunt  Lucy  grumbling  good  naturedly 
over  her  wash  tubs,  of  Rose,  singing  her  queer 
camp  meeting  songs  in  the  spring  twilight,  of 
Don,  and  the  other  dogs,  the  chickens,  and  her 
beloved  flowers,  and  wondered  how  all  of  them 
were  getting  along  with  Richard  and  herself  both 
away. 

Her  reveries  were  Interrupted  by  a  sudden 
sound  which  made  her  start  forward,  tense  with 
excitement.  The  man  in  the  tudio  had  gone  for 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  229 

a  moment  beyond  the  line  of  her  vision,  into  a 
corner  of  the  room  to  her  left.  She  could  not 
see  what  he  was  doing  there,  and  it  was  while 
waiting  for  him  to  reappear  that  she  had  fallen 
into  her  day  dream. 

The  sound  which  startled  her  was  the  voice 
of  a  child,  not  crying,  this  time,  but  speaking 
clearly  and  distinctly.  "I  want  to  go  home!"  it 
said,  in  a  high  nervous  voice.  "I  want  to  see  my 
mamma !" 

The  man  answered  roughly,  impatiently.  "You 
can't  go  now.  Be  quiet  and  come  and  eat  your 
breakfast." 

He  appeared  suddenly  in  the  line  of  view  com 
manded  by  the  crack  in  the  door,  and  Grace  saw 
that  he  held  a  small  boy  by  one  hand,  and  was 
leading  him  to  the  table.  Here  he  placed  him  in 
a  chair  and  set  before  him  a  glass  of  milk  and 
a  roll.  "Hurry  up  now!"  the  man  growled.  "Eat 
your  breakfast.  I've  got  to  go  out." 

The  man's  words  set  Grace's  heart  to  beating 
with  renewed  quickness.  If  the  man  was  going 
out,  she  would  be  able  to  escape,  and  take  the 
boy  with  her. 

She  did  not  doubt  that  he  was  Mr.  Stapleton's 
child.  The  girl's  dress  which  he  had  worn  on 


230  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

the  former  occasion  had  been  removed,  and  in 
place  of  it  he  wore  a  suit  of  dark  blue,  somewhat 
dirty  and  worn.  His  face  still  appeared  to  be 
very  dark,  and  his  hair,  which  had  formerly  been 
long  and  curly,  was  cropped  close  to  his  head. 
He  appeared  to  be  well,  but  very  nervous.  Grace 
watched  him  eagerly  as  he  devoured  the  roll  and 
milk. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  man  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  again  led  him  to  the  corner  of  the 
room  beyond  Grace's  sight.  She  strained  her 
face  against  the  opening  in  the  door,  striving 
in  vain  to  see  what  he  was  doing;  but  it  was  use 
less. 

She  heard  the  boy  begin  to  object,  begging  the 
man  in  a  querulous  voice  to  let  him  go  out  and 
play.  His  captor,  however,  silenced  him  with  a 
sharp  word,  accompanied  by  a  blow.  "Get  in 
there,  and  keep  quiet!"  Grace  heard  him  say,  and 
after  that  all  was  silent.  A  moment  later  the 
man  reappeared,  put  on  his  hat,  and,  going  out, 
locked  the  door  carefully  behind  him.  Grace 
wondered  if  the  maid  had  told  him  of  her  call, 
and  thereby  roused  his  suspicions. 

She  waited  until  she  heard  the  front  door  close, 
and  then,  emerging  quickly  from  the  closet,  went 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  231 

toward  the  side  of  the  room  to  which  the  man 
had  gone  with  the  child. 

At  first  sight,  there  appeared  to  be  no  place 
where  the  latter  could  have  been  hidden.  The 
two  walls  were  of  gray-tinted  plaster,  cracked  and 
stained  with  age.  There  was  a  rickety  chair  and 
a  battered  plaster  figure  of  a  centaur,  against 
which  leaned  an  easel  and  a  mass  of  sketches, 
covered  with  cobwebs  and  dust. 

With  extreme  care,  she  examined  the  walls  and 
floor.  It  seemed  most  likely  that  some  trapdoor 
existed,  affording  an  entrance  to  a  secret  closet 
in  which  the  boy  had  been  placed.  A  few  mo 
ments'  effort  showed  no  traces  whatever  of  such 
a  hiding  place.  The  floor  was  of  planks,  covered 
with  dust,  and  the  cracks  between  the  boards  were 
filled  with  dirt  and  showed  nowhere  evidences  of 
having  been  recently  moved.  The  walls  she 
sounded  gently  with  ,the  handle  of  a  model 
ing  tool  which  she  snatched  up  from  the 
table;  but  they  gave  forth  a  uniformly  solid 
sound. 

She  stood,  surveying  the  place  in  perplexity. 
Then  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  her.  The 
ceiling!  It  swept  low  down,  at  the  corner  of  the 
room,  and  above  it  she  knew  there  must  be  an 


232  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

attic.     She  went  over  and  began  to  examine  the 
dusty  plaster  surface  with  minute  care. 

A  sound  of  footsteps  upon  the  stairs  sent  her 
scurrying  back  into  the  closet.  She  wondered 
why  the  man  had  returned  so  soon.  Greatly  to 
her  surprise,  she  saw,  as  soon  as  the  door  opened, 
that  the  newcomer  was  not  the  one  who  had  left 
her  a  short  time  before,  but  an  older  man,  more 
heavily  built.  As  he  turned  and  glanced  toward 
the  side  of  the  room  where  she  was  hidden,  she 
saw  that  he  wore  a  heavy  black  beard.  It  was 
the  kidnapper  himself — the  man  whom  she  had 
seen  at  Mr.  Stapleton's  house  the  night  before ! 

He  appeared  to  be  annoyed,  at  not  finding  any 
one  in  the  studio,  and  after  a  moment  sat  down 
and  lighting  a  cigar,  began  to  read  a  newspaper 
which  he  drew  from  his  pocket. 

Grace  watched  him  intently,  hardly  daring  to 
breathe  for  fear  he  might  hear  her.  An  hour 
passed,  and  the  air  in  the  closet  became  close  and 
hot.  She  felt  so  nervous  that  she  could  have 
screamed,  when  the  door  of  the  room  suddenly 
opened  and  Durand  appeared. 

The  two  greeted  each  other  with  a  nod. 
"Where  have  you  been?"  the  older  man  de 
manded,  somewhat  angrily. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  233 

"I  had  to  get  a  new  battery."  He  took  a  short 
black  cylinder  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it  on  the 
table. 

"Is  the  boy  here?" 

"Yes." 

"Good !  Now  listen  to  your  instructions."  He 
lowered  his  voice,  glancing  swiftly  toward  the 
closed  door  of  the  room.  "At  eight  o'clock  I 
shall  go  to  the  banker's  house  and  get  the  money. 
At  eight  fifteen,  or  a  little  before,  Francois  will 
get  his  signal  and  repeat  to  you.  If  he  flashes 
the  blue  light,  you  will  release  the  boy,  leave  the 
room,  lock  the  door,  and  go  at  once  to  the  Place 
du  Trocadero.  From  the  little  tobacco  shop  you 
will  telephone  the  address  of  this  place — No. 
42,  isn't  it? — to  Monsieur  Stapleton.  That  will 
be  about  half  past  eight.  Do  not  telephone  before 
that.  Then  wait  for  me  in  front  of  the  shop. 
Do  you  understand?" 

"Perfectly.     And  if  I  get  the  red  signal?" 

"In  that  event,  do  not  release  the  boy,  but 
lock  the  door  and  come  to  the  tobacco  shop,  as 
before.  I  will  communicate  with  you  there.  Old 
Martelle  is  perfectly  safe.  But  I  do  not  think 
there  will  be  any  trouble.  You  will  get  the  blue 
light." 


234  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

"You  seem  sure." 

"I  am.  This  man  Stapleton  is  not  going  to 
take  any  more  chances.  Once  I  am  in  the  auto 
mobile,  I  am  safe." 

"They  could  arrest  you  while  you  are  walking 
to  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  after  leaving  the 
house." 

"That  is  true;  but  what  would  they  gain.  They 
would  not  get  the  boy,  would  they?  And  they 
have  no  evidence  to  show  that  I  stole  him.  Fur 
ther,  Francois  reports  this  morning  that  he  over 
heard  Stapleton  and  his  wife  talking.  There  is 
to  be  no  interference — at  least  not  until  I  get 
away  in  the  machine.  They  will  follow  me,  of 
course.  I  fully  expect  it.  But  you  know  the  steps 
I  have  taken  to  take  care  of  that  game."  He 
laughed  grimly.  "No — no — the  thing  is  abso 
lutely  safe.  We  will  get  away  without  the  least 
trouble." 

"Nevertheless,  if  anything  goes  wrong,  and  I 
do  not  get  the  red  signal,  what  shall  we  do  then?" 

"We'll  talk  that  over,  when  the  time  comes. 
You  meet  me  at  Martelle's." 

"But  suppose  you  can't  be  there?  They  might 
get  you,  you  know." 

The  man  with  the  beard  frowned  darkly,  and 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  235 

an  evil  expression  came  over  his  face.  "If  you  get 
the  red  signal,  and  I  do  not  meet  you  at  Mar- 
telle's  at  half  past  eight,  come  back  here,  get 
the  boy,  and  take  him  to  Lavillac.  And  before 
you  do  so,  cut  off  his  left  hand,  and  send  it  to 
Stapletcn  with  a  letter  telling  him  that  if  I  am 
not  set  free  at  once,  you  will  send  his  head.  That 
will  bring  them  to  terms." 

Grace  shuddered  as  she  heard  the  man's  words. 

His  companion  nodded.  "I  understand,"  he 
said.  "But  I  hope  it  won't  be  necessary." 

"It  won't.  They  can't  get  me.  I've  planned 
too  carefully.  That  American  detective,  Duvall, 
is  a  joke.  He  was  out  on  the  Boulevard  du  Bois 
de  Boulogne  this  morning  with  one  of  the  Pre 
fect's  men.  They  are  figuring  to  have  an  auto 
mobile  at  the  Avenue  Malakoff  and  follow  me." 
He  laughed  loudly.  "Much  good  that  will  do 
them ! 

"How  about  Frangois?" 

"Oh — in  a  week  or  two,  after  we  are  safely 
away,  Frangois  will  sprain  his  wrist,  and  be  forced 
to  give  up  his  position  as  Monsieur  Stapleton's 
chauffeur.  He  will  join  us  in  New  York." 

The  younger  man  puffed  meditatively  at  his 
cigarette.  "What's  become  of  that  woman  Le- 


236  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS; 

fevre  had  snooping  around?  Seen  anything  of 
her,  since  last  night?" 

",No.  She  hasn't  been  about.  Not  much  dan 
ger  of  her  finding  out  anything." 

The  other  rubbed  his  chin,  in  deep  thought. 
"She  nearly  got  you,  last  night,"  he  presently 
remarked. 

"Oh,  no.  Not  a  chance.  I  knew  she  was  in 
the  house,  and  I  figured  she  would  telephone  to 
headquarters  as  soon  as  she  learned  who  I  was. 
All  I  had  to  do  was  to  signal  you,  through  the 
window,  and  the  thing  was  done.  Of  course  I 
didn't  expect  the  Prefect's  man  to  get  there  quite 
as  soon  as  he  did;  but  you  handled  him  all  right." 
As  he  spoke,  the  man  rose,  went  to  a  small  mir 
ror  that  hung  on  the  wall,  and  carefully  removed 
the  black  beard  which  was  so  distinguishing  a 
feature  of  his  appearance. 

"Pretty  hot,  this  thing,"  he  announced,  as  he 
threw  it  on  the  table.  "Got  anything  to  drink 
about?  I'm  thirsty." 

Grace  saw,  as  he  turned  toward  her,  that  he 
bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  masked  man 
who  had  given  her  the  first  message  to  Mr. 
Stapleton,  in  the  room  of  the  house  on  the  road 
to  Versailles.  She  trembled  as  she  heard  him  ask 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  237 

for  the  drink.  Suppose  the  bottle  should  be  in 
the  closet?  She  shrunk  back  in  terror  as  the 
younger  man  rose  and  started  toward  her. 

Her  alarm  was  needless,  however.  The  fellow 
drew  open  one  of  the  drawers  of  a  small  dresser 
that  stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  and 
took  out  a  light  green  bottle.  "Absinthe?"  he 
inquired. 

"All  right.  One  won't  do  any  harm.  Don't 
take  any  more,  though."  He  began  to  pour  out 
the  drink  into  a  glass  which  stood  upon  the  table. 
"When  you  get  the  signal  from  Frangois,"  he 
went  on,  "you  are  to  answer  it,  as  usual,  so  he'll 
know  you've  seen  him.  He  doesn't  want  to  stay 
in  his  room  very  long — for  fear  he  might  be 
missed." 

"They  suspect  him,  of  course." 

"Yes.  He's  being  watched  right  along;  when 
he's  out  of  the  house,  that  is.  They've  searched 
his  room,  and  all  that;  but  they  haven't  found 
anything."  He  chuckled,  and  began  to  sip  his 
drink.  "Nothing  to  find." 

The  other  man  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  the 
two  began  talking  over  their  plans  of  escape. 
Grace  could  not  hear  all  they  said;  but,  as  nearly 
as  she  could  gather,  they  intended,  as  soon  as  the 


238  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

younger  man  had  joined  the  other,  to  run  for 
Brussels  in  the  automobile.  Near  the  frontier 
they  would  leave  the  machine,  change  their  dis 
guises,  and  cross  the  frontier  on  foot.  Once  in 
Belgium,  they  seemed  to  think  they  would  be  quite 
safe. 

It  was  along  toward  noon  when  the  older  man 
readjusted  his  disguise  and  left  the  house.  "I'm 
going  to  get  something  to  eat,"  he  announced.  "I 
won't  be  back.  You'd  better  not  leave  the  place 
again.  I'll  send  you  in  something,  if  you  like." 
He  glanced  at  the  rolls  and  milk  on  the  table. 

"It  won't  be  necessary.  I've  got  all  I  need. 
Guess  I'll  take  a  nap  this  afternoon.  Well,  good 
luck,"  he  concluded,  as  the  other  started  toward 
the  door.  "See  you  later." 

"All  right."  The  black-bearded  man  passed 
noiselessly  into  the  hall.  "Don't  sleep  too  long. 
Eight  o'clock,  remember."  In  a  moment  he  was 
gone. 

Grace  watched  the  other  as  he  finished  drinking 
his  absinthe  and  lit  a  cigarette.  Presently  he  went 
over  to  the  cot  and,  throwing  himself  upon  it,  was 
soon  snoring  loudly. 

The  long  hot  afternoon  wore  itself  on.  Grace 
leaned  back  against  the  wall  of  the  closet,  weak 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  239 

from  the  nervous  tension  of  the  situation.  The 
place  was  hot  and  close.  She  felt  faint  from  lack 
of  air,  from  hunger.  At  times  she  dozed  off, 
then  recovered  herself  with  a  start,  and  stood 
trembling,  fearful  lest  she  had  made  some  noise 
which  might  attract  the  attention  of  the  sleeping 
man. 

After  a  time,  the  low  complaining  of  the  child 
began  again,  at  first  faint  and  seemingly  far  off, 
then  growing  in  volume,  until  the  tearful  cries  of 
"Let  me  out — let  me  out!"  seemed  to  come  from 
a  point  scarcely  beyond  the  reach  of  her  hand. 

The  child's  complaints  at  last  awoke  the  sleep 
ing  man.  With  a  muttered  curse  he  rose,  crossed 
the  room,  and  disappeared  from  sight.  Grace 
heard  a  low  scraping  sound,  as  of  a  panel  being 
drawn  back,  and  presently  the  man  again  ap 
peared  with  the  child,  and  again  supplied  him  with 
bread  and  milk. 

After  he  had  eaten,  the  man  gave  him  a  maga 
zine  with  bright-colored  pictures  in  it,  to  amuse 
him,  and  lay  on  the  bed,  smoking.  The  boy  sat 
on  the  floor,  looking  at  the  book. 

Once  or  twice  he  tried  to  speak,  but  the  man 
sharply  bade  him  be  quiet.  About  sundown,  a 
step  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  once  again  the 


240  \  THE .  BLUE^LIGHTS ; 

boy  was  hastily  placed  in  his  hiding  place,  with 
threats  of  punishment  if  he  cried. 

The  new  arrival  was  only  a  model,  in  search  of 
work.  The  man  spoke  to  her  gruffly,  and  in 
formed  her  that  he  had  all  the  models  he  needed. 
After  she  left,  he  did  not  again  release  the  child, 
but  sat,  reading,  for  a  long  time. 

At  last  he  rose,  took  up  the  short  black  cylinder, 
which  Grace  saw  was  an  electric  searchlight,  from 
the  table,  and  went  over  and  sat  in  the  sill  of 
the  large  double  window  which  faced  to  the  north. 
.The  window  was  open,  and  the  room  in  darkness. 

Grace  pushed  the  door  of  her  closet  open 
slightly,  so  as  to  get  a  better  view.  The  window 
was  directly  opposite  the  closet,  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room.  She  could  see  the  silent  figure  of 
the  watcher,  silhouetted  blackly  against  the  night 
sky  without.  Off  to  the  north  were  many  lights — 
the  lights  of  the  houses  toward  the  Champs  lily- 
sees,  and  the  Arc  de  Triomphe. 

For  many  minutes  she  watched,  over  the  man's 
shoulder,  waiting  for  the  signal  which  would  set 
both  herself  and  Mr.  Stapleton's  boy  free  from 
their  long  confinement. 

Presently  she  heard  the  man  utter  a  quick  oath, 
and  saw  him  peer  out  of  the  window,  his  figure 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  241 

tense  and  rigid,  a  pair  of  field  glasses  held  to 
his  eyes.  In  another  moment  he  had  dropped 
the  glasses,  picked  up  his  electric  searchlight,  and 
flashed  a  signal  into  the  darkness. 

It  took  him  but  a  moment.  In  another  he  had 
rushed  to  the  door,  and  Grace  heard  him  turn 
the  key  in  the  lock  and  clatter  down  the  stairs. 

She  crept  swiftly  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
At  first  she  could  see  nothing,  but  a  confused  maze 
of  lights.  In  a  moment  she  had  seized  the  field 
glasses  and  was  nervously  sweeping  the  horizon. 
Suddenly  she  held  them  still  for  a  moment,  then 
drew  back  with  a  cry  of  dismay.  Far  off  toward 
the  Avenue  Kleber  there  gleamed  a  light,  high  in 
the  upper  room  of  a  house.  It  shone  for  a  few 
moments,  steady,  baleful,  full  of  unknown  terror, 
then  winked  suddenly  out  and  was  gone.  She 
dropped  the  field  glasses  upon  the  floor  and  stag 
gered  back  against  the  table.  The  light  was  red! 
She  was  locked  in.  The  two  men  would  undoubt 
edly  be  back  in  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes.  And 
then — she  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  what  they 
intended  to  do  to  the  kidnapped  child.  To  her 
self  she  gave  scarcely  a  thought.  Then  Richard's 
face  came  before  her  eyes,  and  she  fell  upon  the 
window  seat,  sobbing  bitterly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEN  Monsieur  Lefevre  touched  Rich 
ard    Duvall    on    the    shoulder,    in    the 
restaurant  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens, 
he  was  filled  with  a  very  great  feeling  of  anxiety, 
although  he  concealed  it  behind  a  mask  of  pleased 
surprise  at  the  unexpected  meeting. 

Since  early  the  evening  before  he  had  had  no 
word  from  Grace.  He  knew  from  Mr.  Stapleton 
that  she  had  left  his  house  a  short  while  after 
nine;  but  since  then  she  had  completely  disap 
peared. 

The  Prefect  at  first  thought  that  she  had  been 
unable  to  keep  her  identity  from  her  husband  any 
longer,  and  had  joined  him.  He  later  learned 
from  Vernet  that  this  was  not  the  case.  Now  the 
old  gentleman  began  to  feel  seriously  alarmed  at 
her  continued  absence. 

"How  goes  everything,  my  friend?"  he  asked, 
with  an  elaborate  show  of  carelessness.  "Have 
you  found  the  kidnappers  yet?" 

242 


THE  BLUE   LIOHTS  243 

Duvall  smiled.  "Not  yet.  But  I  expect  to 
have  them,  before  the  evening  is  over." 

"Indeed!  I  congratulate  you.  Have  you  seen 
anything  of  Mademoiselle  Goncourt?" 

"No.    Why?" 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have  met  her. 
You  two  are  after  the  same  game,  you  know." 

Duvall  smiled  grimly.  "I  don't  believe  she's 
following  the  same  trail  that  I  am,"  he  said.  "I 
expect  to  win  that  bet,  Monsieur." 

The  Prefect  seemed  a  trifle  uneasy.  "The  even 
ing  is  not  yet  over,  Monsieur,"  he  replied.  "But, 
in  any  event,  I  hope  that  Monsieur  Stapleton's  son 
will  be  returned  to  him  without  further  delay, 
whoever  brings  about  the  result." 

"Come  to  his  house  tonight,  Monsieur.  I  have 
arranged  a  little  matter  with  Vernet  which  may 
surprise  you.  And  then,  too,  we  shall  have  to  go 
and  get  the  boy."  He  rose,  and  took  up  his  hat. 
"We  shall  want  you  with  us." 

"By  all  means.  I  shall  be  there,  my  friend. 
What  hour  would  you  suggest?" 

"Half  past  eight,  at  the  latest." 

"Good!  I  shall  be  there  at  that  time.  Good 
day,  mon  ami.'' 

."Au  revoir-    Give  my  respects  to  Mademoiselle 


244  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Goncourt."  He  left  the  restaurant  and,  going  to 
his  room  at  the  hotel,  proceeded  to  write  a  long 
letter  to  Grace.  He  reproached  her  for  not  hav 
ing  written  to  him.  Here  he  had  been  in  Paris 
four  days,  and  had  not  heard  a  word  from  her! 
A  letter,  he  felt,  should  have  come  by  the  very 
next  steamer — several,  in  fact.  He  told  her  how 
greatly  he  missed  her,  how  deeply  he  loved  her, 
and  how  soon  he  hoped  to  return  to  her  arms. 
And  even  as  he  wrote,  Grace,  half  dead  from 
fatigue,  stood  hidden  in  the  closet  at  Passy,  a  mile 
away,  watching  with  frightened  eyes  the  kid 
napper  asleep  on  the  pallet  bed. 

Duvall  had  arranged  to  be  at  Mr.  Stapleton's 
house  a  little  before  eight  that  night,  and  it  still 
lacked  twenty  minutes  of  the  hour  when  he  as 
cended  the  steps  of  the  banker's  residence  and  was 
ushered  into  the  library. 

Mr.  Stapleton  sat  in  grim  silence,  awaiting  the 
coming  of  his  visitor.  He  did  not  seem  particu 
larly  glad  to  see  Duvall.  The  latter's  apparent 
failure  to  make  any  headway  in  the  matter  of 
recovering  his  missing  boy  had  caused  the  banker 
to  lose  confidence  in  his  abilities. 

"Good  evening,  Duvall,"  he  remarked,  indif 
ferently. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  245 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Stapleton.  You  are  ready 
for  your  man,  I  see."  He  glanced  at  the  package 
of  banknotes  which  lay  at  the  banker's  elbow. 

"Quite.  You  have  done  nothing  to  interfere 
with  his  coming  or  going,  I  trust." 

"Nothing." 

Stapleton  glanced  at  the  clock.  "He  will  be 
here  very  soon,  now.  May  I  ask  you  to  wait  in 
my  study,  upstairs?  It  would  never  do  for  you 
to  be  here.  The  man  might  be  afraid  to  enter." 

"No — you  are  right.  I  must  not  be  here.  But 
I  prefer  not  to  wait  in  the  study.  I  have  another 
plan." 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  the  banker,  uneasily. 

"Where  is  Frangois,  your  chauffeur?" 

"At  his  dinner,  I  believe.     Why?" 

"Will  you  kindly  find  out  for  sure?  I  want  to 
go  to  his  room." 

Mr.  Stapleton  summoned  a  servant,  who  told 
him  that  the  chauffeur  was  just  finishing  his  din 
ner.  "You  will  be  very  careful,  Duvall,"  he  said, 
anxiously.  "I  don't  want  anything  done  which 
will  alarm  these  fellows." 

"Oh,  Francois  won't  see  me.  I  shall  keep 
out  of  his  sight.  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  up 
now."  He  nodded  to  the  banker,  and  at  once 


246  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

ascended  the  stairs  which  lead  to  the  servants' 
quarters. 

At  the  door  of  the  chauffeur's  room  he  paused. 
It  was  closed.  He  pushed  it  gently  open,  and  in 
a  moment  was  in  the  room.  The  place  was  quite 
dark;  but  by  means  of  a  pocket  light  Duvall  soon 
found  the  closet,  and  a  moment  later  was  safely 
ensconced  within.  He  left  the  door  ajar,  and  to 
his  satisfaction  found  that  he  could  see  through 
the  north  window  without  difficulty.  Here  he 
waited,  until  the  chauffeur  should  arrive. 

Mr.  Stapleton,  meanwhile,  sat  grimly  in  the 
library  below,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  kid 
napper.  Promptly  at  eight  o'clock,  his  butler 
announced  that  the  man  had  arrived. 

"Show  him  in  at  once,"  exclaimed  the  banker, 
as  he  rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room. 

In  a  moment  the  man  came  into  the  library. 
His  powerful  figure,  his  black  beard,  his  assured 
manner,  rendered  him  an  easily  recognized  figure. 

"I  have  come,  Monsieur,  as  I  said  I  would," 
he  remarked,  calmly.  "I  trust  you  have  the 
money  in  readiness." 

Stapleton  stepped  over  to  the  desk  and  picked 
up  the  package  of  banknotes.  "Here  it  is,"  he 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  247 

growled.  "I  understand  that  you  will,  in  return 
for  this  money,  send  me  word  at  once  as  to  where 
my  son  is  to  be  found." 

"Within  half  an  hour,  Monsieur,  at  the  latest; 
provided,  of  course,  I  am  not  interfered  with  in 
my  escape." 

"There  will  be  no  interference,  until  I  get  back 
my  boy.  After  that,  I  shall  spend  another  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars,  if  need  be,  to  bring  you  to 
justice." 

"That,  Monsieur,  is  quite  within  the  terms  of 
our  agreement.  The  moment  you  receive  the  ad 
dress,  you  are  free  from  any  obligation  to  me. 
May  I  see  the  money?"  He  extended  his 
hand. 

Mr.  Stapleton  placed  the  banknotes  in  it. 
"Count  them,"  he  growled,  "and  assure  yourself 
that  you  have  received  the  amount  you  demand." 
The  kidnapper  sat  down  with  the  utmost  cool 
ness  and  began  to  count  over  the  notes.  They 
were  all  of  large  denomination,  and  the  operation 
consumed  but  a  few  moments.  As  soon  as  he  had 
finished,  the  man  placed  the  bundle  of  notes  care 
fully  in  an  inside  pocket  and  rose.  "The  amount 
is  correct,  Monsieur,"  he  said.  "Permit  me  to 
bid  you  a  very  good  evening."  Without  further 


248  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

delay,  he  bowed,  took  up  his  hat,  and  left  the 
room. 

At  the  door  he  glanced  quickly  at  his  watch, 
then  strode  off  up  the  street  at  a  rapid  pace, 
toward  the  Arc  de  Triomphe. 

For  some  eight  or  ten  minutes  he  walked,  at 
the  expiration  of  which  time  he  arrived  at  the 
Place  de  1'Etoile,  and  at  once  crossed  to 
the  pavement  surrounding  the  great  triumphal 
arch. 

Up  and  down  the  twelve  great  avenues  which 
radiate  from  the  Place  of  the  Star  flashed  innu 
merable  automobiles,  coming  and  going  like  huge 
jeweled  fireflies. 

The  kidnapper  paused  at  a  point  on  the  very 
outer  edge  of  the  circular  pavement  which  sur 
rounds  the  arch,  and  waited,  expectant,  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  broad  sweep  of  the  Champs 
Elysees. 

For  some  moments  he  stood  thus,  rigid,  mo 
tionless.  Suddenly  a  big  black  racing  car  swept 
from  the  line  of  traffic  and  approached  the  curb. 
The  man  on  the  sidewalk  raised  his  hand,  and 
made  a  momentary  gesture.  The  car  quivered 
to  the  side  of  the  street,  pausing  but  the  fraction 
of  a  second  as  the  tall  figure  of  the  kidnapper 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  249 

stepped  in.  Another  moment,  and  it  had  swept 
around  the  great  arch  and  was  flying  down  the 
Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne. 

Close  behind  it  came  a  second  car,  which,  like 
the  first,  contained  but  a  single  occupant  in  addi 
tion  to  the  chauffeur.  With  scarcely  fifty  feet 
between  them,  the  two  machines  swept  down  the 
broad  street  toward  the  intersection  with  the 
Avenue  Malakoff. 

In  a  few  moments,  both  had  reached  it.  But 
here  their  ways  parted.  The  first  car,  turning  in 
a  quick  and  dangerous  quadrant,  swept  into  the 
Avenue  Malakoff  and  sped  southward  like  the 
wind.  The  second  car  continued  on  toward  the 
Porte  Dauphine.  As  it  passed  the  intersection 
with  the  Avenue  Malakoff,  the  chauffeur,  unob 
served  by  his  passenger,  directed  a  cylindrical 
black  object  toward  the  southern  sky  and  held  it 
there,  motionless,  until  his  car  had  disappeared 
in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  to  the  west. 

Just  inside  the  Avenue  Malakoff  lay  a  third 
car,  its  powerful  engine  shaking  it  from  end  to 
end  with  its  rapid  pulsations.  Two  men  sat  in 
the  tonneau.  One  of  them  was  occupied  in  watch 
ing  a  distant  window  in  the  rear  of  a  house  on 
the  Avenue  Kleber  with  a  pair  of  field  glasses. 


250  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

The  other  kept  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  road  before 
him. 

Suddenly  the  man  with  the  field  glasses  turned, 
and  pointed  toward  the  car  which  was  just  passing 
from  sight  along  the  Avenue  du  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
"Quick!"  he  muttered.  "After  him!" 

The  automobile  shot  forward  like  a  racehorse 
under  the  whip,  and  in  a  moment  was  flying  down 
the  avenue  in  hot  pursuit. 

The  foremost  car  was  making  high  speed;  but 
the  one  which  pursued  it  was  clearly  the  faster  o£ 
the  two.  Slowly  the  space  which  separated  them 
began  to  decrease.  The  man  in  the  first  car  spoke 
quietly  to  his  chauffeur,  and  the  great  car  jumped 
forward  with  renewed  speed. 

Vernet,  in  charge  of  the  pursuing  car,  swore 
"softly  to  himself  as  he  saw  his  quarry  pull  away 
from  him.  He  had  confidence,  however,  in  the 
speed  of  his  own  machine,  and  urged  his  driver  to 
greater  efforts. 

For  several  miles  the  two  swept  on,  the  rear 
car  gaining  slowly,  in  spite  of  the  other's  best 
efforts.  They  had  passed  the  fortifications  and 
were  now  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  with 
clearer  roads  ahead  the  chase  seemed  likely  to  be 
a  long  one. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  251 

Suddenly,  to  Vernet's  astonishment,  the  for 
ward  car  began  to  slow  up.  In  a  moment  the  Pre'- 
feet's  men  ranged  alongside,  and  covered  the  soli 
tary  passenger  with  their  revolvers. 

"Surrender!"  Vernet  cried.  "You  are  my 
prisoner." 

The  man  in  the  other  car  looked  up,  and  calmly 
began  to  light  a  cigarette.  "Are  you  a  bandit, 
my  friend?"  he  inquired,  calmly. 

The  detective  was  taken  aback.  The  two  cars 
had  now  come  to  a  standstill  at  one  side  of  the 
road.  "Search  him!"  he  said  quickly  to  his  com 
panion. 

The  second  man  climbed  into  the  car.  Its  occu 
pant  made  no  protest.  "What  do  you  wish  with 
me,  gentlemen?"  he  asked,  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 
"My  watch — my  money?" 

"The  searchlight,  first  of  all,"  replied  the  de 
tective,  "with  which  you  signaled." 

The  man  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 
"What  are  you  talking  about,  Monsieur?"  he 
inquired.  "Is  this  then  a  joke?" 

Vernet  began  to  feel  a  trifle  uneasy.  This  man 
certainly  did  not  appear  to  resemble  in  any  way 
the  prisoner  he  had  sought.  He  was  a  clean 
shaven  young  man,  elegantly  dressed,  and  quite 


252  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

evidently  a  gentleman.  "Do  you  deny,"  asked 
the  detective,  "that  on  passing  the  Avenue  Mala- 
koff  a  few  moments  ago  you  flashed  a  blue  light 
toward  the  Avenue  Kleber?" 

The  young  man  laughed.  "Of  course  I  deny 
it,"  he  said.  "Why  the  devil  should  I  be  flashing 
blue  lights  at  the  Avenue  Kleber?  And  who  are 
you,  to  ask  me  any  such  nonsensical  questions?" 

"I  am  an  agent  of  the  police,  Monsieur.  Who 
are  you?" 

"I  am  Anton  Lemaitre,  stock  broker,  of  the 
firm  of  Lemaitre  and  Bossard."  He  handed  a 
card  to  the  dumbfounded  Vernet.  "I  am  trying 
a  new  automobile,  which  I  think  of  purchasing. 
My  chauffeur  proposed  that  we  try  it  out  in  the 
Bois,  where  there  is  more  opportunity  to  speed 
than  in  the  city." 

"Why  did  you  then  run  away?" 

"My  dear  sir,  I  saw  you  following  me.  I 
wish  to  own  a  fast  car — the  fastest  car  in  Paris, 
if  possible.  I  directed  my  driver  to  see  what  he 
could  do.  I  do  not  believe,  however,  that  I 
shall  now  buy  the  car,  since  yours  is  faster.  What 
make  is  it,  Monsieur,  if  I  may  ask?" 

Vernet  smothered  an  oath.  Clearly  this  man 
was  telling  the  truth.  He  Hirected  his  companion 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  253 

to  get  in  with  Monsieur  Lemaifre.  "Drive  to  the 
Prefecture,"  he  said,  "and  let  the  gentleman  tell 
his  story  to  Monsieur  Lefevre."  He  himself 
ordered  his  chauffeur  to  proceed  with  all  despatch 
to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house.  The  affair  had  ended 
in  a  fiasco.  He  felt  that  he  must  see  Duvall  at 
once. 

In  fifteen  minutes  he  was  at  the  house.  Mr. 
Stapleton  was  waiting  patiently  in  the  library  for 
the  telephone  call  which  would  announce  the  hid 
ing  place  of  his  boy.  With  him  were  Mrs.  Staple- 
ton  and  Monsieur  Lefevre. 

The  poor  man  and  his  wife  were  in  a  pitiable 
state,  their  eyes  glued  to  the  clock  which  stood  on 
the  mantel.  It  was  marked  twenty-six  minutes 
past  eight.  "Only  four  minutes  more!"  gasped 
Mrs.  Stapleton,  through  her  tears.  "My  God! 
why  don't  they  hurry?" 

Her  husband  endeavored  to  console  her. 
"They  may  be  a  few  moments  late,  my  dear. 
Don't  excite  yourself.  I  am  sure  they  will  keep 
their  word." 

Vernet  went  over  to  Monsieur  Lefevre  and 
explained  the  events  of  the  evening  in  a  few 
words.  The  Prefect  smiled  grimly.  "So  Mon 
sieur  Duvall  has  failed  again!"  he  remarked,  in 


254  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

a  low  voice.  "Mon  Dieu!  If  we  do  not  soon 
hear  from  Mademoiselle  Goncourt,  I  shall  begin 
to  feel  nervous  myself." 

Slowly  the  hands  of  the  clock  crept  around. 
As  the  half  hour  was  reached,  and  the  telephone 
bell  remained  silent,  Mrs.  Stapleton  uttered  a 
groan  of  despair,  and  sank  upon  the  couch,  weep 
ing  pitifully.  Mr.  Stapleton,  watch  in  hand,  paced 
up  and  down  the  room.  "They  have  been  inter 
fered  with,"  he  stormed,  "or  they  would  have 
communicated  with  me  before  now!"  He  turned 
to  Monsieur  Lefevre.  "You  have  done  nothing, 
I  hope,  to  again  prevent  me  from  recovering  my 
son?" 

"Nothing,  Monsieur." 

Mr.  Stapleton  waited  another  five  minutes.  It 
now  wanted  twenty  minutes  to  nine.  The  telephone 
bell  remained  persistently  silent.  The  banker 
closed  his  watch  with  a  snap  and  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket.  His  face  was  pale  with  rage  and 
suffering.  Drops  of  perspiration  collected  on  his 
forehead.  "The  scoundrels!"  he  cried.  "They 
have  broken  their  word,  and  robbed  me  of  a  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  in  the  bargain.  I  will  give 
another  hundred  thousand  to  the  man  who  will 
capture  them,  dead  or  alive,  and  find  my  boy!" 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  255 

There  was  a  profound  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  quick  sobbing  of  Mrs.  Stapleton.  Neither 
Lefevre  nor  Vernet  ventured  to  speak. 

Suddenly  there  arose  sounds  of  a  commotion 
among  the  servants  gathered  in  the  hall  without. 
In  their  devotion  to  their  employer  they  had  col 
lected  there  to  welcome  the  lost  boy.  There  were 
exclamations,  cries  of  astonishment — and  dismay. 

The  occupants  of  the  room  turned  in  surprise 
toward  the  door.  As  they  did  so,  Richard  Duvall 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  staggered,  and. 
with  difficulty  supported  himself  by  clutching  the 
side  of  the  door.  His  face  was  covered  with 
blood,  his  clothes  torn  and  disheveled. 

He  swayed  a  moment,  unsteadily  in  the  door. 

"What  is  it — what  is  wrong?"  cried  Stapleton, 
starting  toward  him. 

"The  child  is  at  42  Rue  Nicolo,  Passy,"  gasped 
the  detective,  then  fell  heavily  upon  the  library 
floor. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

RICHARD  DUVALL,  waiting  with  nervous 
impatience  in  the  closet  in  Francois'  room, 
at   last   heard    a    soft    and    guarded    step 
upon  the  stairs.    He  drew  back,  his  muscles  tense, 
and  gazed  fixedly  at  the  door. 

Although  the  room  was  dark,  the  glow  of  the 
street  lamps  from  without,  the  faint  light  of  the 
evening  sky,  sufficed,  now  that  his  eyes  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  darkness,  to  enable  him  not 
only  to  recognize  the  chauffeur  as  he  entered  the 
room,  but  to  follow  his  movements  with  little  or 
no  difficulty. 

The  man  seemed  hurried.  He  grouped  his  way 
to  the  dresser  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room, 
and  felt  about  for  the  searchlight  which  Duvall 
knew  lay  within  easy  reach. 

Having  secured  it,  he  directed  it  for  a  brief 
moment  upon  his  watch,  noted  the  time,  then, 
going  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  began  to  listen 
intently. 

256 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  257 

The  detective  at  once  surmised  that  he  was 
listening  for  the  departure  of  his  confederate,  the 
man  with  the  black  beard. 

Presently  the  chauffeur  drew  back,  closing  the 
door  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  and  once  more 
approached  the  dresser.  Duvall  concluded  that 
he  had  gone  to  get  the  colored  glasses  by  which 
he  would  be  able  to  make  the  required  signals. 

In  a  moment  he  returned  to  the  window,  and 
Duvall  saw  him  place  the  two  glass  cups  upon  the 
sill,  and  lean  out  expectantly. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  he  stirred.  The 
detective,  looking  over  his  shoulder,  found  that 
his  line  of  vision  was  interrupted  so  that  he  could 
not  see  the  lights  which  flashed  past  the  entrance 
of  the  Avenue  Malakoff.  He  was  forced  to  con 
tent  himself  with  keeping  a  close  watch  upon  the 
chauffeur. 

Suddenly  the  man,  by  an  almost  instantaneous 
movement,  clapped  one  of  the  little  glass  cups 
over  the  end  of  the  tube  which  formed  tne  search 
light,  and  directed  it  toward  the  street.  Duvall 
could  not  tell  whether  the  signal  was  blue,  or  red. 
He  had  every  reason  to  believe,  however,  that 
it  was  the  former. 

The  chauffeur  held  the  tube  upon  the  window 


258  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

sill  for  a  few  seconds  only,  then  withdrew  it,  and 
started  to  cross  the  room  toward  the  south  win 
dow.  As  he  did  so,  he  swept  the  light  into  the 
room,  and  for  an  instant  it  fell  upon  the  crack 
in  the  closet  door  through  which  Duvall  wras 
peering.  He  was  conscious  of  a  blinding  blue 
radiance,  close  to  his  eyes,  and  the  sudden  flash 
caused  him  to  draw  back  with  a  quick  and  invol 
untary  movement.  He  realized  that  the  chauf 
feur  had  not  seen  him,  and  that,  in  a  few  moments 
more,  the  signal  would  be  given  which  would 
bring  untold  happiness  to  both  Mr.  Stapleton  and 
his  wife. 

The  momentary  recoil,  however,  was  fatal  to 
his  plans.  Although  he  moved  his  head  but  a 
fraction  of  an  inch,  the  suddenness  of  the  move 
ment  was  sufficient  to  cause  a  metal  coat  hanger, 
which  hung,  empty,  from  a  hook,  to  click  sharply 
against  its  neighbor. 

The  chauffeur  spun  around  with  the  quickness 
of  a  cat,  and,  grasping  the  knob  of  the  closet  door, 
threw  it  open.  In  his  hand  he  still  clutched  the 
tube  of  the  searchlight. 

Duvall  at  the  same  moment  reached  for  the 
revolver  which  lay  in  a  side  pocket  of  his  coat. 
He  realized  instantly  that,  now  that  his  presence 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  259 

had  been  discovered,  the  chauffeur  would  of  course 
not  send  the  signal  to  his  confederates  in  Passy 
which  would  result  in  the  telephoning  of  the  ad 
dress  to  Mr.  Stapleton,  but  would  on  the  con 
trary  flash  a  red  signal,  which  the  detective  fully 
believed  would  result  in  the  child's  death. 

It  was  imperative  that  this  should  be  prevented. 
Duvall  had  determined  to  be  present  in  the  chauf 
feur's  room  for  two  reasons, — first,  to  send 
the  favorable  signal  to  Passy  himself,  should 
things  go  wrong,  and  the  chauffeur  receive  a 
red  flash  from  the  street;  secondly,  to  arrest 
Francois  in  the  act  of  receiving  and  sending  the 
signals. 

He  now  realized  that  he  must  do  both,  and 
that,  too,  without  a  moment's  delay. 

As  the  chauffeur  threw  open  the  door  he  flashed 
the  blue  light  full  upon  the  crouching  figure  of  the 
detective. 

The  latter,  revolver  in  hand,  commanded  him 
sharply  to  throw  up  his  hands. 

The  chauffeur  did  so — thereby  directing  the 
light  of  the  electric  lamp  toward  the  ceiling.  The 
sudden  change  from  the  glare  which  an  instant 
before  had  been  in  his  eyes,  to  almost  total  dark 
ness,  left  Duvall  momentarily  blind.  His  eyes 


260  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

could  not  instantaneously  respond  to  the  with 
drawal  of  the  light.  The  figure  of  the  chauffeur 
appeared  but  a  dark  and  formless  shadow. 

The  latter,  however,  not  having  faced  the  glare 
of  the  light,  was  able  to  see  without  difficulty. 
With  lightning  like  quickness  he  spun  around  on 
one  toot,  until  his  back  instead  of  his  face  was 
toward  the  detective.  Then  his  right  foot  rose, 
in  the  famous  and  deadly  blow  of  the  savate. 

It  has  been  said  that  this  backward  kick,  so 
dear  to  the  heart  of  the  Parisian  crook,  is  more 
to  be  feared  than  any  possible  onslaught  in  good 
old  Anglo-Saxon  style  with  the  fists.  Certainly 
in  this  instance  it  was  too  much  for  Richard  Du- 
vall.  The  unexpected  blow,  coming  during  the 
moment  when  the  sudden  darkness  had  left  him 
blinded  and  confused,  sent  him  crashing  back  into 
the  depths  of  the  closet,  buried  beneath  a 
mass  of  clothing.  His  arms,  entangled  in  fall 
ing  coats  and  waistcoats,  were  helpless.  The 
revolver  flew  from  his  hand,  and  lay  useless  on  the 
floor. 

The  chauffeur  went  about  his  business  calmly. 
His  first  move  was  to  direct  the  searchlight  care 
fully  into  the  interior  of  the  closet,  slipping  the 
blue  cup  from  the  end  of  it  as  he  did  so  and  allow- 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  261 

ing  it  to  fall  unheeded  to  the  floor.  His  second 
was  to  draw  a  long  and  peculiarly  deadly  looking 
knife. 

His  quick  eye  saw  at  once  that  the  revolver  was 
no  longer  in  the  detective's  grasp.  His  search 
light  enabled  him  to  discern  it,  lying  on  the  floor 
to  one  side  of  the  closet.  Before  Duvall  could 
extricate  himself  from  the  articles  of  clothing  in 
which  he  was  entangled,  Frangois  had  stooped 
quickly,  picked  up  the  revolver,  and  slammed  the 
door  of  the  closet  upon  him.  As  he  struggled 
to  his  feet,  the  detective  heard  the  click  of  the 
key  as  it  turned  in  the  lock.  He  was  a 
prisoner. 

Without  losing  a  moment,  the  chauffeur  tossed 
the  revolver  upon  the  table,  took  up  the  cup- 
shaped  bit  of  red  glass,  fitted  it  to  the  tube  of  the 
searchlight,  and,  going  to  the  south  window,  placed 
it  upon  the  sill  in  such  a  way  that  its  crimson  glare 
was  directed  almost  due  south.  It  was  evident 
that  the  position  in  which  the  light  was  placed  was 
marked  by  the  two  tiny  scratches  cut  in  the  wood 
work  of  the  window  sill.  In  a  moment  he  had 
turned  back  toward  the  closet  door. 

Duvall,  meanwhile,  realized  that  only  by  in 
stant  and  superhuman  effort  could  he  hope  to 


262  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

remedy  the  frightful  situation  which  his  unlucky 
movement  had  precipitated. 

He  braced  his  shoulders  and  back  against  the 
rear  wall  of  the  closet,  put  his  two  feet  against 
the  door,  and  with  every  atom  of  strength  in  his 
body  strove  to  force  it  open. 

His  movements  had  been  quick.  Just  as  the 
chauffeur  turned  back  from  the  window  toward 
the  room,  Duvall,  his  muscles  knotted  with  effort, 
drove  the  full  force  of  his  body  against  the  closet 
door. 

The  lock,  a  cheap  affair,  was  torn  loose  in  a 
twinkling,  and  an  instant  later  the  two  men  had 
grappled  in  the  center  of  the  room. 

The  detective's  one  desire  was  to  get  to  the 
window,  remove  the  red  light  which  he  knew  was 
flashing  its  fateful  message  across  the  housetops, 
and  substitute  for  it  a  blue  light,  which  he  hoped 
even  now  might  shine  forth  in  time  to  redeem  the 
situation. 

This,  however,  the  chauffeur  was  equally  deter 
mined  to  prevent.  He  realized  that  he  was  caught, 
that  his  complicity  in  the  affair  was  known, 
and  that  he  must  warn  his  comrades  of  his  dan 
ger,  so  that,  by  refusing  to  give  up  the  boy,  they 
might  effect  his  release.  He  was  fighting  for  his 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  203 

liberty  as  desperately  as  Duvall  was  fighting  for 
that  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  child. 

The  two  men  were  evenly  matched.  The  chauf 
feur  was  perhaps  the  stronger,  in  shoulders  and 
arms,  due  to  his  profession.  The  constant  grip 
upon  the  steering  wheel  had  given  to  his  upper 
body  muscles  like  steel. 

The  detective,  though  somewhat  less  powerful 
in  this  direction,  was  stronger  in  the  back  and 
legs.  He  had  been  an  athlete,  at  college,  and  his 
recent  life  upon  the  farm  at  home  had  toughened 
and  hardened  him  from  head  to  foot. 

He  rushed  at  his  opponent,  threw  his  arms 
around  the  latter's  waist,  and  strove  to  lift  him 
and  throw  him  to  the  floor. 

The  chauffeur  at  the  same  time  got  his  right 
arm  about  Duvall's  throat,  and  with  his  left  did 
his  best  to  gouge  out  one  of  the  latter's  eyes.  His 
was  the  style  of  fighting  that  considers  not  means, 
but  results. 

For  a  moment  they  swayed  heavily  about  the 
room,  the  detective  burying  his  face  in  his  oppo 
nent's  side  to  protect  his  eyes,  and  at  the  same  time 
striving  with  all  his  might  to  force  him  back 
toward  the  bed. 

Frangois,  however,  fought  well.     He  began  to 


264  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

compress  his  adversary's  throat  in  a  choking  grip 
of  wrist  and  forearm  which  threatened  to  put 
an  end  to  the  struggle  in  short  order.  At  the  same 
time  his  left  thumb  continually  sought  the  detec 
tive's  eyes. 

Suddenly  it  reached  one  of  them.  Duvall  felt 
a  blinding  sense  of  pain  as  the  thumb  nail  sank 
into  the  soft  and  tender  muscles  about  the  eye. 
The  shock  was  fatal  to  the  plans  of  the  chauffeur; 
for  it  raised  up  in  his  opponent  a  great  and  deadly 
rage,  that  for  an  instant  gave  him  the  strength  of 
a  madman.  He  raised  his  opponent  from  the 
floor  as  though  the  latter  had  been  a  child,  broke 
the  grip  upon  his  throat  by  straightening  his  head, 
and  with  a  mighty  heave  hurled  him  to  the  floor. 

The  fellow  struck  upon  his  side,  his  temple 
crashing  loudly  against  the  wooden  floor.  Duvall 
stood  over  him  for  an  instant,  breathing  heavily, 
convulsively,  then  turned  and  snatched  the 
searchlight  from  the  window  sill  and  threw  it 
upon  the  bed. 

There  was  a  trunk  against  the  wall  of  the 
room,  near  the  window,  and  about  it  a  broad 
leather  strap.  Duvall  tore  the  strap  from  its  place, 
and  in  a  few  moments  had  fastened  it  about  the 
chauffeur's  arms  and  body. 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  265 

A  towel,  knotted  about  his  ankles,  rendered 
him  helpless.  Then  the  detective  began  to  search 
upon  the  floor  for  the  bit  of  blue  glass. 

In  his  heart  there  was  no  joy  at  the  victory 
he  had  just  won.  He  had  captured  one  of  the 
kidnappers,  it  was  true;  but  on  the  other  hand 
he  had,  by  his  own  carelessness,  prevented  the 
safe  return  of  the  kidnapped  boy  to  his  parents. 

He  pictured  the  father  and  mother,  patiently 
waiting  below  for  the  telephone  message  which 
would  never  come,  and  wondered  how  he  would 
dare  to  tell  them  the  truth. 

At  last  his  nervous  fingers  closed  upon  the  little 
glass  cup,  where  it  had  rolled  under  the  edge  of 
the  dresser  when  Frangois  had  thrown  it  down 
Trembling  with  haste,  he  fixed  it  to  the  search 
light  which  he  took  from  the  bed,  and,  with  a  hope 
less  feeling,  approached  the  window,  and  began 
to  wave  the  light  frantically  in  the  direction  of 
Passy. 

For  several  moments  there  was  no  response. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  scarcely  expected  any. 
Then  all  of  a  sudden  he  saw  a  faint  red  gleam, 
like  a  star,  flash  from  the  distant  night,  and  then 
go  out. 

He  stood,  helpless,  waiting  for  it  to  reappear, 


266  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

hardly  daring  to  hope  that  it  would  do  so.  Sud 
denly  it  shone  again,  this  time  for  a  longer  period, 
and  then  disappeared.  He  wondered  what  it 
meant,  and  was  scarcely  surprised  when  the  light 
again  flashed,  this  time  making  five  quick  flashes, 
which  he  instantly  recognized  as  Morse  code  for 
the  letter  "P."  There  was  a  brief  interval,  then 
once  more  the  signals  began  to  flash.  This  time 
he  read  them  without  difficulty.  There  were  four 
letters,  spelling  the  word  "Help." 

For  an  instant  he  leveled  the  tube  of  the 
searchlight  toward  the  point  from  which  the 
flashes  came,  guiding  it  by  the  scratches  on  the 
sill,  and  began  pressing  the  button  which  turned 
the  light  on  and  off.  "Where  are  you  ?"  he  spelled 
out,  then  waited  fearfully  for  the  reply.  He 
dared  send  no  other  message.  The  person  at  the 
other  end,  the  one  who  sent  this  ominous  word, 
"help,"  must  be  one  of  the  kidnappers;  yet  why 
should  he  signal  for  assistance?  He  could  make 
nothing  of  the  matter,  but  he  reasoned  that  anyone 
calling  for  help  would  be  sure  to  give  their  loca 
tion,  otherwise  how  could  they  expect  to  receive  it. 

For  a  moment  the  red  flashes  began  again, 
and  this  time  he  began  to  get  the  numbers. 
There  were  four  quick  flashes  and  a  long  dash, 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  267 

then  others  in  rapid  succession:  "4-2-R-u-e-N-i-c- 
o-1-o,  P-a-s-s-y,"  the  message  read.  C-o-m-e 
q-u-i-c-k." 

Duvall's  head  reeled,  as  he  spelled  out  the 
words.  He  had  not  realized  until  now  that  he 
was  wounded.  The  blood,  pouring  down  his  face 
from  the  great  gash  in  his  cheek,  spattered  thickly 
upon  the  window  sill.  He  turned  from  the  win 
dow,  then  realized  that  he  must  send  some  answer, 
to  let  this  mysterious  person  at  the  other  end  of 
the  line  know  that  his  message  had  been  safely 
received. 

"Will  come  at  once.  Who  are  you?"  he  spelled 
out,  laboriously,  his  head  spinning,  his  fingers 
trembling  from  weakness  as  he  tried  to  stop  the 
flow  of  blood  from  his  wound. 

"G-R-A-C-E  D-U-V-A-L-L"  came  back  the 
flashes,  quick,  clear  cut,  unmistakable. 

Duvall  dropped  the  searchlight  to  the  floor 
with  a  harsh  laugh.  His  brain  was  reeling — the 
whole  thing  became  a  foolish,  senseless  nightmare. 
He  wondered  if  he  was  delirious,  and  had 
dreamed  it  all.  Again  he  flashed  a  signal  into  the 
darkness.  "Who  are  you?"  he  spelled  out  again. 
He  did  not  believe  that  he  had  read  the  former 
answer  aright.  Evidently  his  imagination  was 


268  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

playing  him  tricks — Grace  had  been  on  his  mind 
so  constantly,  throughout  the  day.  He  wiped  the 
blood  from  his  eyes  and  stared  eagerly  out  into 
the  darkness.  There  was  no  response. 

Then  he  remembered  the  words  of  the  message, 
"Come  quick."  There  was  no  time  for  idle 
speculations  as  to  the  identity  of  the  person  who 
had  sent  him  the  message. 

He  rushed  to  the  stairs,  and  with  tottering  foot 
steps  descended  to  the  library  below.  Francois, 
the  chauffeur,  still  lay,  bound  and  unconscious, 
upon  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FOR  a  few  moments  after  being  left  alone 
in  the  studio  at  Passy,  Grace  almost  lost 
her  courage.  She  knew  that  the  man  who 
had  remained  on  guard  in  the  room  had  received 
the  danger  signal — the  red  light — which  told  him 
that  the  plans  of  his  confederates  had  miscarried. 
She  remembered  the  instructions  which  the  black- 
bearded  man  had  given  him.  "If  I  do  not  meet 
you  at  Martelle's,  take  the  boy  to  Lavillac.  And 
before  you  do  so,  cut  off  his  left  hand  and  send  it 
to  Mr.  Stapleton." 

The  very  thought  of  the  thing  made  her  sick. 
She  rushed  to  the  door,  and  tore  frantically  at 
the  knob;  but  it  resisted  all  her  efforts.  She 
glanced  at  the  windows,  knowing  that  to  escape 
by  means  of  them  from  her  position  on  the  top 
floor  of  the  house  was  impossible.  And  then — 
should  she  escape,  she  would  be  obliged  to  leave 
the  child,  and  this  she  by  no  means  wanted  to  do. 

269 


270  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

Suddenly  she  heard  again  the  faint  moaning. 
The  sound  almost  drove  her  frantic.  She  rushed 
to  the  window  and  looked  out,  praying  for  guid 
ance,  for  some  ray  of  hope  in  the  frightful  situa 
tion  in  which  she  found  herself. 

Already  several  minutes  had  passed  since  the 
departure  of  the  man.  It  would  not  be  long,  she 
felt,  before  he  returned,  and,  for  all  she  knew,  the 
black-bearded  man  with  him.  Would  they  attack 
her,  if  they  found  her  there?  She  could  hide 
again,  of  course;  but  that  would  not  accomplish 
anything,  except  perhaps,  to  save  herself.  And 
she  had  set  out  to  rescue  the  child. 

In  a  whirl  of  indecision,  she  glanced  out  of  the 
window,  toward  the  point  in  the  north  where  she 
had  seen  the  red  light.  She  wondered  where  it 
was,  from  what  place  it  had  been  sent.  Then 
suddenly,  as  she  swept  the  horizon  with  eager 
eyes,  she  saw,  where  a  few  moments  before  the 
red  light  had  flashed,  a  gleam  of  blue.  Unlike 
the  red  signal,  however,  which  had  been  steady, 
as  though  fixed  in  place,  this  one  moved  about 
restlessly,  now  pointing  full  at  her,  now  almost 
disappearing  to  the  right  or  left. 

She  seized  the  field  glasses  and  gazed  at  the 
light  in  wonder.  Did  this  mean  that  the  kidnap- 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  271 

pers  had  been  successful,  after  all,  and  that  the 
former  signal  had  been  a  mistake,  or  did  it  indi 
cate  that  the  person  giving  the  first  signal  had 
been  overpowered,  and  that  the  light  was  in  the 
hands  of  friends? 

She  had  no  means  of  knowing;  but  here  was 
someone  who  was  trying  to  send  her  word  that  all 
was  well.  She  determined  to  reply. 

Her  one  thought  was  to  get  to  Mr.  Stapleton 
her  present  address.  She  knew  that  the  man  who 
had  been  intrusted  with  the  task  of  telephoning  it 
to  the  bankerv  would  not  now  do  so.  She  would 
try  to  send  the  address  herself. 

Then  came  to  her  a  great  feeling  of  joy,  that 
she  was  familiar  with  the  Morse  code.  Richard 
had  taught  it  to  her,  during  their  trip  from  Paris 
to  New  York  the  year  before.  She  remembered 
how  she  had  been  interested  in  the  wireless, 
and  Richard  had  offered  to  teach  her  the 
alphabet. 

She  picked  up  the  searchlight  and  examined  it. 
It  was  an  ordinary  pocket  lamp,  with  a  dry  bat 
tery,  such  as  are  sold  at  stores  dealing  in  electrical 
goods,  and  she  saw,  from  its  size,  that  it  was  an 
unusually  powerful  one. 

Midway  along  one  side  was  a  tiny  button,  by 


272  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

pressing  which  the  circuit  was  completed, 
the  light  made  to  flash.  By  pressing  this  button 
momentarily,  she  could  get  a  quick  flash,  compara 
ble  to  a  dot.  By  holding  it  down  longer,  she 
could  produce  a  dash. 

She  did  not  stop  to  remove  the  red  glass  which 
was  fixed  over  the  front  of  the  light;  in  fact,  she 
concluded  that  it  would  be  better  to  let  it  remain. 
There  were  many  white  lights  all  about — among 
them,  her  own  would  have  but  a  small  chance 
of  being  seen.  But  red  was  significant,  conspicu 
ous,  indicative  of  danger,  and  that  she  was  in 
grave  danger  she  very  well  knew. 

She  decided  to  first  send  the  word  "help."  She 
knew  that 'if  the  person  receiving  the  message  was 
a  friend,  he  would  at  once  ask  where  she  was, 
since  that  would  be  to  Mr.  Stapleton  and  his  party 
the  most  essential  and  important  news  she  could 
give. 

On  the  other  hand,  were  it  to  be  received  by 
one   of  the  kidnappers,   he   would*  ask  her,   not 
1  where  she  was,  but  what  was  the  matter. 

Painfully,  fearful  of  mistakes,  she  deciphered 
the  message  which  slowly  flashed  across  the  mile 
of  night.  "Where  are  you." 

With   trembling   fingers,    she   spelled   out   her 


With  trembling  fingers  she  spelled  out  her  reply,  giving  the  address  and 

adflincr     "  (   ntnp    murk-  I   " 


adding,  "  Come  quick  ! 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  273 

reply,  giving  the  address  and  adding,  "Come 
quick."  When  she  got  the  answer,  "Will  come 
at  once,"  she  felt  that  there  was  still  a  chance 
that  the  boy  might  be  saved.  Then  came  the  re 
quest  for  her  name.  She  gave  this  impatiently. 
What  difference  did  it  matter,  so  long  as  they 
came  quickly. 

She  hastily  lighted  a  candle  which  stood  upon 
the  table,  then  cast  about  her  for  some  means 
whereby  she  might  prevent  the  black-bearded  man 
and  his  companion  from  entering  the  room,  in 
case  they  should  return  before  help  arrived. 
There  was  one  thing,  of  course,  that  she  could 
do,  barricade  the  door. 

But,  with  the  exception  of  the  table  and  the 
light  iron  bed,  there  was  nothing  with  which  she 
could  hope  to  secure  it.  Suddenly  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  great  plaster  centaur.  It  was  a  figure 
such  as  one  might  see  in  any  art  gallery  or  mu 
seum.  It  stood  upon  a  plaster  slab  some  six  inches 
thick,  which  in  turn  rested  upon  a  low  wooden 
base.  The  figure  was  at  least  five  feet  high — a 
horse  with  a  human  torso  and  head.  She  knew 
that  if  she  could  jam  this  in  front  of  the  door, 
securing  it  in  place  with  the  bed  and  table,  she 
might  prevent  the  kidnappers  from  entering  for 


274  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

some  little  time;  long  enough,  she  hoped,  to  in 
sure  the  arrival  of  the  police  before  they  had 
succeeded  in  breaking  in. 

She  wondered  if  she  could  manage  to  move 
the  thing.  At  first  sight,  it  seemed  impossible,  and 
yet  the  base  might  by  chance  be  fitted  with  rollers 
or  casters.  She  rushed  over  to  the  figure  and 
began  to  tug  at  it  with  all  her  strength. 

She  needed  but  a  moment  to  discover  that  she 
could  not  possibly  move  it ;  but  as  she  bent  over  it, 
her  head  close  to  its  side,  she  heard  something 
which  made  her  start  with  sudden  joy. 

It  was  the  low  sobbing  of  a  child — the  same 
moaning  sound  which  she  had  heard  from  time 
to  time  ever  since  she  had  first  entered  the  room. 

At  times  the  sound  had  appeared  to  come  from 
afar  off;  at  others,  it  had  seemed  to  be  close  at 
hand,  as  though  originating  at  some  point  in  the 
very  air  about  her. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  truth  came  to  her  like  a 
flash.  The  child  was  concealed  within  the  hollow 
body  of  the  statue.  The  thing  seemed  so  simple, 
so  apparent,  that  she  wondered  that  it  had  not 
occurred  to  her  before. 

She  gave  up  her  attempt  to  barricade  the  door, 
and  began  feverishly  to  look  for  the  opening  in 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  275 

the  plaster  cast  through  which  the  child  must  have 
entered. 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  to  find  it.  The 
whole  side  of  the  horse's  body  had  been  sawed 
free,  by  two  longitudinal  cuts,  one  along  the  back, 
the  other  along  the  belly,  and  two  similar  cuts, 
at  the  shoulder,  and  the  flank.  Heavy  strips  of 
canvas,  glued  across  the  lower  cut,  on  the  under 
side  of  the  horse's  belly,  served  as  hinges,  and 
were  not  visible  from  above. 

She  inserted  the  blade  of  a  modeling  tool 
which  she  caught  up  from  the  table,  in  the  upper 
longitudinal  cut,  and  pried  the  plaster  side  of  the 
Vorse  free.  It  fell  heavily  toward  her,  disclosing 
a  long  narrow  opening;  the  interior,  in  fact,  of 
the  statue,  where  lay,  upon  a  sort  of  bed  made  of 
an  old  comfort,  the  missing  son  of  Mr.  Stapleton. 

The  boy,  who  had  evidently  until  a  moment 
before  been  asleep,  gazed  up  at  her  in  surprised 
alarm.  For  over  two  weeks,  now,  he  had  been 
kept  from  his  parents,  made  to  move  about  from 
place  to  place,  frightened  by  strange  men.  He 
had  come  to  expect  the  unusual,  the  terrifying, 
and  it  was  a  scared  little  face  that  looked  appeal- 
ingly  up  at  the  girl  as  she  bent  over  him. 

For  the  time  being  she  forgot  the  dangers  which 


276  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

surrounded  them,  in  her  joy  at  the  discovery  of 
the  boy.  It  had  come  so  suddenly,  so  unexpect 
edly.  If  she  could  only  escape,  now,  with  the 
child,  nothing  else  would  matter  in  the  least.  And 
between  her  and  freedom  there  lay  but  the  thick 
ness  of  a  single  door,  and  yet  it  seemed  that  she 
could  not  pass  it. 

She  lifted  the  child  from  his  hiding  place  and 
stood  him  upon  the  floor,  then  quickly  swung  the 
heavy  slab  of  plaster  back  into  position.  At  least, 
she  reasoned,  the  kidnappers,  when  they  returned, 
should  not  at  once  learn  that  their  captive  had 
escaped. 

She  knew  that  the  hiding  place  had  been  but  a 
temporary  one,  a  means  whereby  the  child  might 
be  kept  out  of  sight  during  the  day  in  case 
strangers  should  happen  to  enter  the  room.  As 
soon  as  the  kidnappers  returned,  they  would,  she 
realized,  spirit  the  child  away  to  some  more  secure 
retreat. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  again  shook  it  fran 
tically,  pulling  at  the  knob  with  all  her  strength, 
without  producing  the  slightest  result.  The  lock 
was  evidently  a  strong  one — the  door  held  firm 
and  unyielding,  though  she  threw  against  it  her 
entire  weight. 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  277 

Evidently  there  was  no  hope  of  escape  here. 
Then  she  again  bethought  herself  of  the  window. 
For  a  moment  she  gazed  out  into  the  darkness. 
The  pavement  was  thirty  feet  below.  No  one 
was  in  sight.  How  could  she  ever  reach  the 
ground,  with  the  child  as  well,  even  if  she  had 
possessed  a  rope?  The  thing  was  impossible. 

Clearly  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  Pos 
sibly  the  assistance  she  expected  from  her  friends, 
or  the  police,  would  arrive  very  soon — surely  she 
could  in  some  way  keep  the  kidnappers  occupied 
until  then ! 

And  suddenly  she  realized  that  the  time  had 
come.  She  heard  the  door  of  the  house  close 
softly,  and  upon  the  stair  the  sound  of  mounting 
footsteps. 

Which  was  it,  the  police,  or  the  kidnappers? 
The  latter,  she  felt  morally  certain,  since  the  for 
mer,  in  their  haste  to  rescue  the  child,  would 
beyond  any  question  have  arrived  in  an  automo 
bile,  and  at  top  speed. 

The  newcomers  were  mounting  the  stairs  in  a 
leisurely  manner,  as  though  free  from  any  anxiety. 
Grace  heard  them  pause  for  a  moment  on  the 
first  landing,  then  start  up  the  second  flight  of 
stairs.  It  seemed  to  her  out  of  the  question,  to 


278  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

stand  in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  await  their 
entrance.  At  least  she  could  postpone  the  fatal 
moment  a  little  while,  by  hiding,  with  the  boy, 
in  the  closet.  She  stepped  into  it,  the  child's  hand 
in  hers,  and  drew  the  door  shut,  just  as  the  two 
men  entered  the  room.  On  her  way,  she  hastily 
blew  out  the  candle. 

They  were  the  same  two  men  that  she  had  seen 
before, — the  black-bearded  man,  now  without  his 
beard,  and  the  artist,  Durand.  She  saw  this,  as 
soon  as  the  latter  had  relit  the  candle.  She  won 
dered  if  he  would  notice  that  the  wick  was  still 
warm.  Evidently  he  did  not;  for  they  threw 
themselves  into  chairs,  lit  cigarettes,  and  began  to 
talk. 

"Now  we  can  speak  freely,"  said  Durand. 
"How  did  things  go?" 

"I  got  the  money — gave  the  blue  signal,  and 
expected  to  be  halfway  to  Brussels  by  now.  What 
nonsense  is  this  about  a  red  light?" 

"It  is  no  nonsense,  I  assure  you.  I  saw  it  with 
my  own  eyes,  as  plain  as  day." 

"Then  Francois  must  have  made  a  mistake,  or 
else  he  has  been  placed  under  arrest — the  latter, 
no  doubt.  Now  the  question  is,  What  shall  we 
do?  I  think  we  ought  to  get  out  of  Paris  as  soon 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  279 

as  possible.  It  isn't  safe  to  stay  here."  He  looked 
about  him  nervously. 

"Why  not?  You  didn't  telephone  Monsieur 
Stapleton  this  address,  did  you?" 

"No,  naturally  not." 

"Then  I  don't  see  but  what  we  are  quite  safe. 
No  one  knows  the  child  is  here." 

"Then  you  don't  intend  to  give  him  up?" 

"Not  yet.  I  must  first  find  out  whether  or  not 
Francois  is  in  trouble." 

"Let  him  look  out  for  himself." 

The  older  man  frowned.  "Since  when,  my 
friend,"  he  asked,  "have  I  been  in  the  habit  of 
deserting  my  comrades?  Frangois  must  go  free, 
or  Mr.  Stapleton  does  not  get  his  boy.  That's 
flat.  The  first  thing  is  to  send  his  father  some 
thing  that  will  let  him  see  that  we  mean  busi 
ness." 

"We've  got  to  be  sure  about  Frangois,  first." 

"I'll  find  that  out,  tonight.  My  plan  is  this. 
We  must  first  get  the  child  away  to  Lavillac's 
place.  This  is  too  unsafe,  here.  Anyone  might 
come  in." 

"They'd  have  difficulty  in  finding  the  hiding 
place."  The  younger  man  grinned. 

"That's  all  very  well;  but  the  other  place  is 


280  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

safer.  And  then — Lavillac's  woman  can  look 
after  the  brat  while  we  are  away.  What  a  pity 
Francois  had  to  get  into  a  mess  at  the  last  mo 
ment!  I  hoped  to  be  rid  of  the  boy,  by  now." 
The  older  man  rose  and  began  striding  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  length,  sharply,  "we  might 
as  well  get  along.  I  move  thai  we  wrap  the  boy 
in  a  coat,  take  him  down  to  the  car,  run  quickly 
out  to  Lavillac's  place,  leave  him  there,  and  start 
for  Brussels  at  once.  The  rest  we  can  do  by 
'phone.  Francois  set  free — the  boy  the  same. 
Meanwhile,  we've  got  to  show  this  man  Stapleton 
we  mean  business;  so  we'd  better  arrange  to  send 
him  one  of  the  kid's  hands  at  once.  If  we  don't, 
he'll  have  the  whole  Paris  police  force  after 
us." 

"All  right.  I'll  get  him  out."  He  strode 
quickly  over  to  the  statue,  pulled  out  the  side,  and 
gazed  blankly  into  the  empty  space  before  him. 

"Sacre!  The  child's  gone!"  he  exclaimed,  ex 
citedly.  "Somebody  has  been  here — in  this  room 
— since  I  left  it,  half  an  hour  ago." 

"The  door  was  locked." 

"I  know;  but  somebody's  been  here,  neverthe 
less,  for  the  child  is  gone." 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  281 

"He  may  not  be  gone,  Durand.  It  is  true  that 
he  is  no  longer  in  the  horse;  but  he  may  be  in 
the  room,  for  all  that.  Search  the  closet." 

The  man  named  Durand  stepped  quickly  to 
the  closet  door.  "Not  much  chance,"  he 
grumbled.  "And  if  the  police  knew  that  he  was 
here,  and  have  spirited  him  away,  they  may  even 
now  be  waiting  to  spring  a  trap  of  which  you  and 
I  are  the  rats.  For  all  we  know  the  place  is 
surrounded  at  this  very  moment." 

"Then  the  sooner  we  get  away  from  it  the  bet 
ter.  Search  the  closet.  If  he's  not  there,  we'd 
better  make  tracks  for  the  frontier  as  quickly  as 
possible.  We  can  do  nothing  more  without  the 
child.  Francois  will  have  to  look  out  for  •him 
self." 

Durand  went  impatiently  up  to  the  closet 
door  and  flung  it  open,  then  both  he  and  his  com 
panion  recoiled  in  surprise  as  Grace  stepped  out, 
holding  the  child  by  the  hand. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  gasped  the  two  men  in  unison. 

The  one  who  had  worn  the  black  beard  was 
the  first  to  recover  himself.  "Quick!"  he  cried, 
motioning  toward  Grace.  "The  woman  is  a  de 
tective.  Tie  her  up,  and  let's  get  away  at  once. 
No  doubt  she  has  sent  word  to  her  friends.  We 


282  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

can't  afford  to  stay  here  another  minute."  He 
seemed  greatly  excited  and,  rushing  to  the  window, 
inspected  the  silent  street  below. 

Durand,  meanwhile,  had  thrown  himself  upon 
the  girl,  seized  her  hands,  and  with  a  quick  motion 
had  secured  them  with  a  bit  of  cord  he  snatched 
from  within  the  closet. 

She  offered  no  resistance,  made  no  outcry. 
Both  seemed  equally  useless.  The  boy  stood  by, 
watching  the  scene  in  childish  wonder.  So  many 
queer  things  had  happpened  to  him,  however,  dur 
ing  the  past  few  days,  that  he,  too,  remained 
silent. 

In  a  moment  the  older  man  withdrew  his  head 
from  the  window,  rushed  to  the  closet,  and  draw 
ing  out  a  long  gray  coat,  wrapped  it  about  the 
child.  "You  will  come  along  with  us,  Mademoi 
selle,"  he  said  sternly.  "Make  no  attempt  to 
escape,  if  you  value  your  life." 

"But  what  do  we  want  with  her?"  the 
younger  man  asked,  impatiently. 

"You  fool !  Would  you  leave  her  here,  to  give 
our  description  to  the  police?  It  would  mean 
certain  capture  in  a  few  hours.  This  woman  has 
got  to  be  put  where  she  can  do  no  harm  until  we 
are  safely  over  the  frontier.  It  may  be  wiser  to 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  283 

silence  her  altogether.  We'll  decide  about  that 
when  we  reach  Lavillac's.  The  first  thing  is  to 
get  out  of  this  house  without  losing  a  moment's 
time.  Come!"  He  started  for  the  door. 

As  he  did  so,  Grace  heard,  far  off,  the  steady 
throbbing  of  an  automobile.  She  felt  a  wave  of 
hope  sweep  over  her.  It  might  be  her  friends, 
coming  to  her  assistance.  If  so,  they  might  yet 
arrive  in  time. 

The  two  men  evidently  also  heard  the  sound. 
"Hurry — hurry!"  the  older  one  urged,  as  they 
began  to  descend  the  stairs.  "They  may  be  on 
us  at  any  moment.  Go  out  the  rear  way." 

Grace  heard  the  sounds  of  the  approaching 
automobile  growing  more  and  more  distinct.  In 
another  minute  it  would  stop  before  the  door  of 
the  house.  But  in  that  minute  her  captors  would 
not  only  have  been  able  to  descend  the  stairs,  but 
would  already  be  making  good  their  escape 
through  the  garden  at  the  rear  of  the  building. 

She  must  do  something,  she  knew,  to  prevent 
this;  but  what — what?  Bound  as  she  was,  how 
could  she  hope  to  prevent  the  escape  of  these  men. 
She  looked  ahead  of  her,  to  where,  a  step  or  two 
in  advance,  the  man  of  the  black  beard  was 
hastily  descending  the  stairs,  the  boy  firmly  held 


284  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

in  his  arms.  Behind  her  came  his  companion, 
candle  in  hand,  close  at  her  heels. 

They  were  within  half  a  dozen  steps  of  the 
lower  hall.  From  this  she  could  see  a  dark  pas 
sageway,  leading  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 
Already  the  noise  of  the  automobile  without  told 
her  that  it  was  stopping  at  the  door.  She  heard 
the  sound  of  rapid  footsteps  on  the  sidewalk;  yet 
realized  that,  before  her  friends  could  break  in, 
their  quarry  would  have  flown. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  sprang  •for 
ward,  throwing  her  whole  weight  upon  the  man 
in  front  of  her. 

The  sudden  shock,  as  she  precipitated  herself 
upon  his  shoulders,  threw  him  off  his  balance,  and 
he  pitched  forward  headlong  into  the  hallway 
below.  The  two  of  them,  together  with  the 
child,  rolled  in  a  tangled  heap  to  the  floor.  The 
second  man,  candle  in  hand,  stopped  on  the  stairs 
and  gazed  helplessly  down,  not  realizing  for  a 
moment  what  had  happened. 

"Help!  Help!"  Grace  screamed  at  the  top  of 
her  voice,  as  she  struggled  to  regain  her  feet,  and 
at  the  same  moment  there  came  the  sound  of 
heavy  blows  upon  the  front  door 

The  man  who  had  been  carrying  the  child  rose 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  285 

to  his  feet  with  an  oath,  just  as  his  companion 
joined  him.  He  turned  on  Grace  with  a  howl 
of  fury,  and  struck  her  a  quick  blow  in  the  face. 
She  had  a  confused  vision  of  fleeing  men,  the 
dancing  light  of  a  candle,  a  rush  of  fresh  air,  and 
then  all  was  blotted  out  in  a  wave  of  oblivion. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  startling  and  dramatic  entrance  of 
Richard  Duvall  into  Mr.  Stapleton's 
library,  ending  with  his  announcement  oi 
the  whereabouts  of  the  kidnapped  child,  and  his 
subsequent  collapse,  threw  the  entire  party  Into 
confusion. 

Mrs.  Stapleton  started  up  with  a  scream,  her 
overwrought  nerves  no  longer  able  to  resist  the 
frightful  strain  under  which  she  had  for  so  many 
days  been  laboring. 

Her  husband,  who  had  completely  forgotten 
the  detective's  presence  in  the  house,  in  his  anxious 
vigil  at  the  telephone,  called  out  instantly  to  one 
of  the  servants,  ordering  him  to  tell  Francois  to 
bring  his  automobile  to  the  door. 

Monsieur  Lefevre,  accompanied  by  Vernet, 
sprang  quickly  to  Duvall's  assistance.  The  Pre 
fect  felt  that,  if  the  latter's  statement  was  correct, 
he  had  won  out  in  the  long  duel  for  the  honor 
of  recovering  the  kidnapped  child;  but  no  con- 

286 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  287 

sideration  of  this  nature  could  make  him  any  less 
concerned  for  the  detective's  welfare,  or  any  the 
less  thankful  that,  no  matter  by  whose  efforts, 
the  missing  child  had  at  last  been  located.  He 
had  hoped  that  to  Grace  Duvall  would  ultimately 
fall  the  prize  of  success;  but  these  things  were, 
after  all,  of  no  serious  weight,  compared  with 
the  great  fact,  that  the  success  had  at  last  come. 

Assisted  by  Vernet,  he  placed  Duvall  upon  a 
couch,  and  called  for  brandy,  and  a  basin  of  cold 
water. 

In  a  few  moments,  under  Vernet's  skilful  min 
istrations,  the  detective's  wound  had  been  washed 
and  temporarily  bound  up,  and  he  had  been  re 
stored  to  consciousness.  A  little  of  the  brandy 
soon  served  to  dispel  his  faintness.  He  declared 
himself  ready  to  accompany  the  expedition  to 
Passy. 

The  Prefect  endeavored  to  dissuade  him;  but 
to  no  purpose.  The  message  which  he  had  re 
ceived  in  the  chauffeur's  room,  to  the  effect  that 
the  person  calling  for  help  was  Grace  Duvall, 
his  own  wife,  seemed  so  mysterious,  so  utterly  in 
explicable  to  him,  that  he  could  conceive  no  rea 
sonable  explanation  for  it.  There  was  but  one 
thing  to  do, — to  go  himself  and  sift  the  matter 


288  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

to  the  bottom.  He  did  not  expect  to  find  Grace 
there,  and  yet — what  else  could  the  message 
mean? 

Just  as  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  with  the  an 
nouncement  that  he  would  accompany  the  party 
to  Passy,  two  of  the  servants  rushed  into  the 
library,  and  with  scared  faces  announced  that 
Francois  lay,  bound  and  unconscious,  on  the  floor 
of  his  room.  Mr.  Stapleton  looked  quickly  at 
Duvall. 

"It's  all  right,  Mr.  Stapleton,"  exclaimed  the 
detective.  "The  fellow  is  one  of  the  gan^."  He 

o         o 

turned  to  Monsieur  Lefevre.  "You'd  better  have 
him  placed  under  arrest  at  once.  And  if  your  car 
is  here,  we'll  use  that,  instead  of  Mr.  Stapleton's. 
There's  not  a  moment  to  be  lost." 

"By  all  means.  My  automobile  is  at  the  door. 
Vernet,"  he  turned  to  his  assistant,  "have  one  of 
your  men  take  charge  of  this  fellow  Francois 
at  once.  We  must  set  out  immediately." 

Mr.  Stapleton  took  his  wife  in  his  arms,  and 
embraced  her  tenderly.  "Don't  worry,  dear,"  he 
said.  "I'll  be  back  with  the  boy,  inside  of  half 
an  hour.  Come  along!"  he  shouted  to  the  others, 
as  he  made  for  the  door.  "No  time  to  waste 


now." 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  289 

In  a  few  moments  the  entire  party,  consisting 
of  Mr.  Stapleton,  Duvall,  Monsieur  Lefevre,  Ver- 
net,  and  the  Prefect's  chauffeur,  were  driving  to 
ward  Passy  at  a  rate  which  set  at  naught  all  speed 
regulations  and  sent  the  few  pedestrians  who  hap 
pened  to  cross  their  path  scampering  to  the  side 
walk  for  safety. 

Duvall  explained,  as  they  went  along,  the 
mysterious  messages  which  he  had  received 
by  flashlight.  No  one  understood  them  but 
Monsieur  Lefevre.  He  gave  a  great  sigh  of 
relief.  The  continued  and  unexplained  absence 
of  Grace  had  alarmed  him  greatly.  Now  he 
began  to  understand  the  reasons  for  it.  That 
part  of  Duvall's  story  which  spoke  of  haste,  the 
appeal  for  prompt  assistance,  made  him  look 
grave.  He  leaned  over  to  his  chauffeur  and  urged 
him  to  even  greater  speed. 

The  trees  and  houses  along  the  Avenue  Kleber, 
and  later  the  Rue  Franklin,  swept  by  the  speed 
ing  machine  in  a  whirl  of  dust.  In  what  seemed 
an  incredibly  short  time  the  automobile  dashed 
into  the  Rue  Nicolo,  and  thundered  up  to  No.  42. 

Vernet  was  the  first  to  ascend  the  steps  of  the 
house,  closely  followed  by  Duvall  and  the  others 
of  the  party.  As  they  reached  the  front  door, 


190  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

and  rapped  loudly,  they  all  heard  a  sudden  com 
motion  within,  followed  by  cries  and  shouts  and 
a  fall.  Instantly  all  four  threw  their  combined 
weight  against  the  door,  shattering  the  lock  and 
bursting  it  in. 

The  semidarkness  showed  a  terrifying  spec 
tacle.  On  the  floor  lay  a  woman,  unconscious, 
clutching  in  her  arms  a  child,  trapped  in  a  long 
gray  coat.  Down  the  dark  hallway  leading  to 
the  rear  of  the  house  dashed  the  figures  of  two 
men.  One  of  them  turned,  as  the  attacking  party 
entered,  and  hurled  the  lighted  candle  which  he 
bore  full  into  their  faces.  The  entire  scene  was 
instantly  plunged  into  darkness. 

The  momentary  light  of  the  candle,  however, 
had  been  sufficient  to  send  a  thrill  of  joy  through 
at  least  one  of  the  entering  party.  Mr.  Stapleton 
recognized,  in  the  white  and  tearful  face  of  the 
child,  his  kidnapped  boy,  and,  stooping,  raised  him 
tenderly  in  his  arms. 

Duvall,  not  knowing  whether  the  unconscious 
woman  was  the  supposed  agent  of  the  police, 
Mademoiselle  Goncourt,  or  Grace,  his  wife,  lifted 
her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  out  into  the  air. 

Vernet,  followed  by  the  Prefect,  and  the  chauf 
feur,  who  had  at  once  joined  them,  dashed  fear- 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  291 

lessly  along  the  dark  passage  by  which  the  two 
men  were  attempting  to  escape. 

There  was  a  crash,  as  the  rear  door  was  burst 
out,  followed  by  a  volley  of  shots  as  Vernet  opened 
upon  the  fleeing  men  with  his  automatic  re 
volver. 

In  a  moment  the  affair  was  over.  The  foremost 
of  the  two  men  crumpled  up  before  he  had  taken 
half  a  dozen  strides  through  the  garden,  and  his 
companion  raised  his  hands  and  surrendered,  beg 
ging  for  mercy.  Within  a  few  moments  he  was 
handcuffed,  and  Vernet,  bending  over  his  wounded 
companion,  was  directing  the  chauffeur  to  summon 
an  ambulance  at  once. 

Monsieur  Lefevre  returned  hastily  to  the  street. 
His  sole  concern  now  was  for  Grace.  He  prayed 
fervently  that  no  serious  harm  had  befallen  her, 
and  realized  that  Duvall  was  likely  to  resent  bit 
terly  the  deception  which  has  been  practised  upon 
him. 

The  latter,  however,  was  in  no  mood  for  re 
criminations.  No  sooner  had  he  carried  his  un 
conscious  burden  to  the  street,  when  Grace  opened 
her  eyes,  threv/  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and 
kissed  him. 

"Richard— Richard !"  she  cried,  happily.    "I'm 


292  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

so  glad — so  glad!"  then  rested  content  in  his 
arms. 

The  detective's  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  In  no 
possible  way  could  he  account  for  the  presence 
here,  in  Paris,  under  such  tragic  and  inexplicable 
circumstances,  of  the  wife  wrhom  he  had  left,  so 
short  a  time  before,  peacefully  sitting  on  the  rose- 
covered  porch  of  their  home  in  Maryland.  The 
thing  seemed  incredible,  unbelievable ;  yet  here 
was  Grace,  with  her  soft  arms  about  his  neck,  her 
kisses  on  his  lips,  to  prove  its  reality. 

He  looked  at  Monsieur  Lefevre  dully  as  the 
latter  joined  them  upon  the  sidewalk,  but  could 
say  nothing. 

"It  seems,"  remarked  the  Prefect,  with  a  grave 
smile,  "that  not  only  has  Mr.  Stapleton  found  his 
boy,  but  you  have  found  your  wife." 

Duvall  frowned.  "What  is  she  doing  here?" 
he  asked. 

"We  will  speak  of  that  later,  my  friend,"  ob 
served  Lefevre,  quietly.  "Just  at  present  I  pro 
pose  that  we  return  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  without 
a  moment's  delay.  Her  heart  is  breaking  with 
anxiety."  He  took  Grace's  arm  and  assisted  her 
to  enter  the  automobile,  where  Mr.  Stapleton  had 
already  preceded  them  with  his  son.  "It  is  to 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  293 

you,  my  dear  child,"  he  said  to  Grace,  as  she  sunk 
weakly  back  upon  the  cushioned  seat,  "that  Mrs. 
Stapleton  will  owe  all  her  happiness." 

It  was  a  cheerful  party  that  broke  in  upon  the 
banker's  wife  a  short  time  later.  Duvall,  under 
the  stimulus  of  Grace's  presence,  had  completely 
forgotten  his  wound;  while  Grace,  who  had  been 
but  momentarily  stunned  by  the  blow  which  the 
kidnapper  had  given  her,  was  radiant  with  joy  at 
once  more  feeling  her  husband's  arms  about 
her. 

Monsieur  Lefevre  carried  them  both  off  to  his 
house,  as  soon  as  the  boy  had  been  restored  to 
his  mother.  The  happiness  of  the  banker's  re 
united  family  was  too  great  to  permit  them  to  be 
even  mildly  interested  in  the  affairs  of  Richard 
Duvall  and  his  wife,  and  they,  too,  wished  to  be 
alone.  It  seemed  to  them  both  as  though  ages 
had  passed  since  they  had  seen  each  other;  they 
could  scarcely  realize  that  it  had  been  but  a  little 
over  two  weeks.  Richard  especially  seemed 
unable  to  grasp  the  truth  of  the  situation.  He 
plied  Grace  with  numberless  questions,  and  could 
scarcely  believe  that  he  had  actually  been  within 
arm's  length  of  her  on  at  least  four  different  occa 
sions  during  the  past  week  without  knowing  it. 


294  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

Monsieur  Lefevre  advised  him  to  leave  the 
whole  matter  until  the  next  day.  "You  should 
be  proud  of  your  wife,  Monsieur,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "But  for  her,  I  doubt  if  Monsieur 
Stapleton  would  ever  have  seen  his  boy  again. 
And  that  reminds  me,"  he  smiled  mischievously, 
"that  I  have  won  that  little  bet.  It  was  Made 
moiselle  Goncourt,  of  my  office,  that  recovered 
the  lost  child." 

"I  think  the  honors  are  pretty  evenly  divided, 
Monsieur,"  laughed  Grace,  happily,  as  she  pressed 
her  husband's  hand.  "Don't  forget  that  if 
Richard  hadn't  gotten  my  message,  all  my  work 
would  have  gone  for  nothing." 

"Suppose  we  call  it  a  draw,  then,"  said  the  Pre 
fect.  "All  in  the  family,  as  you  Americans  say. 
And  to  show  that  I  am  not  prejudiced,  one  way  or 
the  other,  I  suggest  that  you  both,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stapleton,  dine  with  me  tomorrow  evening. 
There  are  many  points  connected  with  this  case 
which  are  by  no  means  cleared  up,  and  we  should 
talk  them  over.  Although  we  have  secured  the 
missing  child,  and  three  of  the  kidnappers,  we 
do  not  yet  know  how  the  child  was  stolen,  or 
whether  the  nurse,  Mary  Lanahan,  is  innocent  or 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  295 

guilty  of  any  part  in  his  mysterious  disappearance 
in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  I  confess  that  I  have  all 
along  considered  her  guilty,  and  am  inclined  to 
order  her  arrest  at  once." 

"It  will  be  useless,  Monsieur,"  remarked  Du- 
vall,  quietly.  "She  is  entirely  innocent." 

"You  mean  that  she  knows  nothing  of  how  the 
boy  was  spirited  away?" 

"Nothing!" 

"Mon  Dieu!  Then  the  thing  may  forever  re 
main  a  mystery." 

"Not  at  all.     It  is  simple  enough." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  turned  to  him  with  a  look 
of  inquiry.  "You  mean,  then,  /that  you  have 
solved  it?" 

"I  do." 

"Then  may  I  ask  that  you  will  be  good  enough 
to  explain  it  at  once?" 

Duvall  laughed.  "Monsieur  Lefevre,"  he 
said,  "I  have  a  splitting  headache,  a  bad  wound 
in  my  cheek,  and  a  burning  desire  to  spend  the 
next  two  hours  talking  to  my  wife."  He  drew 
Grace  toward  him,  and  put  his  arm  through  hers. 
*'I  am  very  much  afraid  that  the  explanation  of 


296  THE  BLUE  LIGHTS 

the  disappearance  of  Mr.  Stapleton's  boy  will 
have  to  be  put  off  until  tomorrow." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  watched  the  two  as  they 
went,  arm  in  arm,  up  the  stairs. 

"Mon  Dieu  !"  he  said  softly  to  himself.  "They 
are  just  as  much  in  love  with  each  other  as 
ever." 


CHAPTER  XX 

MUST  confess,"  remarked  Monsieur  Le- 
fevre,  as  he  sat  with  Mr.  Stapleton  and 
Duvall  over  their  after  dinner  cigars  the 
following  evening,  "that  while  the  case  as  a  whole 
appears  simple  enough  to  me,  there  are  one  or 
two  points  that  I  fail  to  understand." 

"There  are  a  great  many  that  /  fail  to  under 
stand,"  exclaimed  the  banker,  chewing  reflec 
tively  on  his  cigar.  "However,  now  that  the  boy 
is  safe  at  home,  it  really  makes  very  little  differ 
ence." 

"On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Stapleton,"  remarked 
Duvall,  "it  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference. 
For  instance,  I  understand  that  you  have  dis 
charged  the  nurse,  Mary  Lanahan." 

"Yes.  You  say  that  she  is  quite  innocent  of 
any  part  in  the  kidnapping  of  my  boy;  but  the  fact 
remains  that  I  don't  trust  her.  I  am  informed 
that  she  was  married  to  that  fellow,  Valentin,  this 
afternoon." 

297 


298 

Duvall  smiled.  "That  was  quite  to  be  ex 
pected." 

"At  one  time,"  said  Mr.  Stapleton,  "you  be 
lieved  this  fellow  Valentin  to  have  been  concerned 
in  the  plot." 

"Yes.  That  is  true.  My  early  investigations 
of  the  matter  showed  me  at  once  that  there  was 
some  understanding  between  these  two,  some 
thing  which  they  were  endeavoring  to  conceal. 
I  did  not  at  first  understand  the  motive  which 
actuated  them.  I  thought  it  was  guilt.  In  reality, 
it  was  love.  Therefore  I  am  not  surprised  to 
learn  of  their  marriage."  He  gazed  critically  at 
his  cigar  for  a  time,  in  silence. 

"As  matters  have  turned  out,  gentlemen,"  he 
resumed,  after  a  few  moments,  "there  is  no  cause 
for  anything  but  congratulation  on  all  hands. 
The  child  is  recovered,  the  criminals  are  under 
arrest,  the  money — the  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  you  paid  out,  Mr.  Stapleton — was  found 
on  the  kidnapper's  person  and  returned  to 
you." 

"Exactly.  Nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory 
all  around." 

"And  yet,"  went  on  the  detective,  "I  have  never 
before  taken  part  in  a  case  in  which  I  have  done 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  299 

so  little,  in  which  I  have  been  so  uniformly  un 
successful." 

Mr.  Stapleton  raised  his  hand.  "My  dear  Du- 
vall,"  he  began,  "but  for  you,  we  should  have 
been  nowhere." 

"You  are  wrong,  my  friend.  Had  I  kept  out 
of  the  case  altogether,  your  son  would  have  been 
returned  to  you  just  the  same.  It  is  true  that 
the  men  who  kidnapped  him  would  not  have  been 
caught,  and  your  money  would  not  have  been 
returned  to  you;  but  the  prime  object  which  you 
sought,  the  recovery  of  your  child,  would  have 
been  realized  in  any  event." 

"That  is  true,"  remarked  the  Prefect;  "but, 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  police,  it  is  the  detec 
tion  and  capture  of  the  criminal  that  is  desired, 
not  the  buying  of  him  off.  By  insisting  on  that, 
Mr.  Stapleton,  you  rendered  our  work  extremely 
difficult." 

"So  difficult,  indeed,"  said  Duvall,  earnestly, 
"that  but  for  the  energy,  the  courage,  the  wit  of 
a  woman,  all  our  plans  would  have  failed.  I 
refer  to  my  wife.  It  is  to  her  that  all  the  credit 
in  this  affair  is  due." 

"By  all  means!"  said  Mr.  Stapleton.  "I  could 
not  fail  to  realize,  when  she  told  her  story  at 


300  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

dinner  tonight,  how  much  Mrs.  Stapleton  and  my 
self  owe  her.  I  shall  have  something  to  say  on 
the  subject  of  our  debt,  as  soon  as  the  ladies 
rejoin  us.  But  tell  us,  Mr.  Duvall,  a  little  more 
about  the  case,  as  you  now  understand  it. 
I  confess  that  I  am  becoming  more  and  more  in 
terested.  What,  for  instance,  was  the  mystery, 
if  indeed  there  was  any,  connected  with  the  box 
of  gold-tipped  cigarettes?" 

Duvall  smiled.  "That,  my  dear  sir,  is  in 
fact  the  crux,  the  starting  point,  of  the  whole 
affair."  He  settled  back  in  his  chair  comfortably. 
"Otherwise  the  case  was  simple  enough.  Certain 
scoundrels  steal  a  child,  hold  it  for  ransom,  and 
frighten  the  parents  into  paying  over  a  large  sum. 
Nothing  unusual  in  that.  A  clever  scheme  or  two 
for  turning  the  money  over,  and  returning  the 
child — simple,  yet  perfect  enough  to  defy  all  at 
tempts  to  foil  them. 

"The  real  mystery  lay  in  the  utter  absence  of 
any  clues  which  would  throw  light  on  the  actual 
stealing  of  the  child.  In  this  respect  the  case 
was  unique.  A  trusted  nurse  swears  that  the 
child  has  disappeared  in  broad  daylight,  without 
the  slightest  knowledge  of  how  it  was  accom 
plished.  Here  we  have  a  case  so  simple,  so 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  301 

devoid  of  incident  of  any  sort,  that  we  are  baffled 
at  the  very  start  by  the  impossibility  of  the  thing. 
Yet  the  nurse  is  a  woman  of  good  reputation, 
honest,  clearly  telling  what  she  believes  to  be  the 
truth. 

"But  a  single  clue  existed  upon  which  I  could 
build  the  least  semblance  of  a  case.  I  refer  to 
the  half-smoked  cigarette  with  the  gold  tip,  which 
I  discovered  in  the  grass  at  the  scene  of  the  crime. 
Without  that  apparently  trivial  clue,  the  criminals 
would  in  all  probability  never  have  been  captured 
at  all." 

"But,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stapleton,  "I  don't  see 
how  you  make  that  out." 

"Nor  I,"  observed  the  Prefect. 

"No.  I  suppose  not.  And  yet,  it  is  simple 
enough.  That  half-smoked  cigarette  and  nothing 
else  is  the  basic  reason  for  the  arrest  of  the  three 
men  now  in  your  hands." 

Monsieur  Lefevre  smiled.  "Be  good  enough," 
he  said,  "to  explain." 

"Very  well,  I  will.  But  first,  let  me  indicate 
to  you  my  course  of  reasoning.  When  I  originally 
found  the  cigarette,  I  regarded  it  as  of  very  small 
value,  from  the  standpoint  of  evidence.  It  hap 
pened  to  be  lying  in  the  grass  at  the  point  where 


3C2  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

the  crime  occurred;  but  during  the  week  or  more 
which  had  elapsed  between  the  stealing  of  the 
boy  and  my  examination  of  the  ground,  a  hundred 
people  might  have  walked  over  the  spot.  I  took 
it,  because  I  realized  that  it  might  have  a  bearing 
on  the  case,  and  I  have  learned  to  discard  no  clue, 
however  trifling  it  may  appear,  until  it  has  been 
proven  valueless.  ' 

"Now  to  go  back  to  the  cigarette,  I  observed 
at  once  that  it  was  of  American  make,  yet  of  such 
small  size  as  to  have  been  either  used  by  a  woman, 
or  by  a  man  of  rather  effeminate  taste. 

"Now  if  the  cigarette  had  been  used  by  a 
woman,  it  meant  one  of  two  things.  Either  it 
was  used  by  Mary  Lanahan  herself,  in  which  case 
it  apparently  proved  nothing,  or  by  some  other 
woman  who  was  there  with  her,  and  who  might 
have  had  a  hand  in  the  kidnapping. 

"On  the  other  hand,  if  used  by  a  man,  it  pointed 
clearly  to  the  chauffeur,  Valentin,  for  several 
reasons.  He  was  a  friend,  a  former  lover,  of  the 
nurse.  He  had  been  discharged  by  Mr.  Staple- 
ton  for  dishonesty.  He  was,  I  had  reason  to  know, 
of  rather  a  weak  and  effeminate  type.  The  cigar 
ette  was  of  American  make,  and  he  had  but  re 
cently  come  from  America.  These  things  pointed 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  303 

to  Valentin.  The  fact  that  the  nurse  was  in  love 
with  him  would  cause  her  to  shield  him.  I  deter 
mined  to  try  the  matter  out  at  once. 

"As  soon  as  I  returned  to  the  house,  therefore, 
I  confronted  her,  and  asked  her  if  Valentin 
smoked  gold-tipped  cigarettes.  I  did  this,  not 
because  I  expected  to  get  any  reply  of  value,  but 
because  I  wished  to  observe  her  manner,  her  face, 
when  I  flung  the  question  at  her. 

"She  was  greatly  startled.  She  denied  that 
Valentin  smoked.  Fifteen  minutes  later,  she  sent 
him  a  message  to  destroy  the  cigarettes. 

"I  at  once  concluded  that  they  were  working 
together,  and  were  both  guilty,  a  conclusion  in 
which,  however  much  I  was  justified  by  the  evi 
dence,  I  was  quite  wrong. 

"Then  came  the  attempt  on  the  part  of  some 
one — the  man  with  the  black  beard,  I  am  told — 
to  steal  the  cigarettes  from  Valentin.  I  learned 
that  the  man  was  followed  to  Mr.  Stapleton's 
house. 

"This  at  once  threw  a  new  light  upon  the  mat 
ter,  although  I  will  admit  a  confusing  one.  Some 
one  else,  besides  the  nurse,  desired  the  box  of 
cigarettes  removed  as  evidence;  someone,  in  fact, 
who  belonged  to,  or  had  friends  in,  the  house. 


304  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

Who  could  this  be  ?  I  could  think  of  n»  one,  out 
side  of  Mary  Lanahan  herself,  but  the  chauiieur, 
Francois." 

"Why  did  you  first  suspect  him?'"  asked  Mr. 
Stapleton. 

"Because  he  was  the  only  person,  besides  the 
nurse,  who  was  present  at  the  time  of  the  kid 
napping.  I  did  not  abandon  my  suspicions  of 
either  the  nurse  or  Valentin.  I  fully  believed 
that  they  knew  a  great  deal  more  about  the  affair 
than  they  admitted.  But  I  became  convinced  that 
Francois,  too,  was  in  the  thing.  He  had  testified 
that  he  was  asleep  when  the  affair  occurred.  I 
concluded  -at  once  that  he  was  lying. 

"At  the  first  opportunity,  therefore,  I  made  a 
thorough  search  of  his  room,  and  found  the  box 
of  cigarettes  hidden  in  a  clock  on  his  mantel." 

"Ha!  I  did  not  know  that,"  exclaimed  the 
Prefect.  "What  were  they  doing  there?" 

''I  concluded  that  the  fellow  with  the  black 
beard  who  stole  them  from  Valentin,  in  order  to 
prevent  their  use  as  evidence  against  him,  turned 
them  over  to  Frangois  for  a  definite  purpose." 

"And  that  purpose  was?" 

"Their  use  in  subsequent  crimes  of  a  similar" 
nature." 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  305 

Mr.  Stapleton  and  the  Prefect  gazed  at  Duvall 
in  bewilderment.  "Explain  yourself,  my  friend," 
exclaimed  the  latter.  "I  confess  I  do  not  under 
stand  what  you  are  talking  about.  Who,  may  I 
ask,  really  smoked  the  cigarette,  the  remains  of 
which  you  found  in  the  grass?" 

"Mary  Lanahan,"  said  the  detective,  with  a 
smile. 

"The  nurse!  Name  of  a  dog!  Then  I  fail 
to  see  that  the  matter  is  of  the  slightest  importance 
one  way  or  the  other." 

"On  the  contrary,  Monsieur,  it  is  of  the  great 
est  importance.  May  I  ask  whether  you  are,  by 
any  chance,  familiar  with  the  properties  of  an 
Eastern  drug,  made  from  hemp,  and  generally 
known  as  hashish?" 

The  Prefect  sat  up  suddenly,  and  clapped  his 
hands  to  his  knees.  "Mon  Dieu !"  he  exclaimed. 
"Now  I  begin  to  understand." 

"More  than  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Stapleton. 

"The  cigarettes  were  drugged,  that  is  all," 
went  on  Duvall.  "The  men  who  planned  this 
thing  went  to  work  very  carefully.  They  ascer 
tained,  through  Francois,  that  Mary  Lanahan  was 
in  the  habit,  no  doubt  on  the  sly,  of  using  cigar 
ettes.  I  discovered  the  fact,  myself,  before  I 


306  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

left  New  York.  They  also  learned  that  she 
smoked  the  same  brand  as  Mrs.  Stapleton  herself 
used.  No  doubt  she  helped  herself  from  Mrs. 
Stapleton's  supply.  They  therefore  secured,  also 
through  Frangois,  a  box  of  these  cigarettes,  and 
had  them  heavily  drugged  with  hashish.  The  box 
of  drugged  cigarettes  was  substituted,  later  on, 
for  her  own." 

"But,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stapleton,  "how  could 
Mary  Lanahan  swear  that  she  turned  away  but 
a  moment — that  no  one  came  near  her?" 

"When  Mary  Lanahan  testified  that,  she  be 
lieved  that  she  was  telling  the  truth.  The  hashish 
had  simply  destroyed  her  conception  of  the  pas 
sage  of  time." 

"Is  that  its  effect?" 

"Yes.  It  produces  a  delightful  languor,  a 
stupor  in  which  all  realization  of  the  passage  of 
time  ceases.  Sometimes,  to  those  who  use  the 
drug,  it  may  apparently  require  hours  to  walk 
a  few  yards.  To  make  a  momentary  movement 
of  the  hand  may  seem  to  take  many  minutes.  On, 
the  other  hand,  in  the  stupor  which  the  drug 
induces,  hours  may  be  spent  in  the  contemplation 
of  a  flower,  a  bit  of  scenery,  the  page  of  a 
book,  without  any  realization  on  the  part  of  the 


THE   BLUE   LIGHTS  307 

user  that  more  than  a  few  seconds  have  elapsed. 
That  is  what  happened  to  Mary  Lanahan.  She 
inhaled  a  few  puffs  of  the  cigarette,  heavily 
charged  with  the  drug;  without  knowing,  of 
course,  of  its  presence.  She  probably  passed  at 
once  into  a  state  of  stupor  which  may  have  ex 
tended  over  fifteen  minutes  or  more.  She  was  not 
unconscious.  She  sat  upon  the  grass,  looking 
off  toward  the  distant  sky,  in  a  waking  dream, 
not  unlike  a  trance,  in  which  all  the  world  about 
her — the  world  of  sound,  of  movement — ha.d 
simply  ceased  to  exist.  She  was  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  unconscious  of  what  was  going  on  about 
her.  The  kidnapper,  whom  I  strongly  suspect 
to  be  Francois,  merely  strolled  up  behind  her, 
picked  up  the  boy,  and  walked  off  with  him." 

The  detective's  listeners  looked  at  him  in  as 
tonishment.  Presently  Mr.  Stapleton  spoke. 
"Why  do  you  think  it  was  Francois?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  for  many  reasons.  Had  he,  on  ap 
proaching,  found  the  nurse  not  sufficiently  under 
the  influence  of  the  drug,  he  could  have  pretended 
to  wish  to  speak  to  her,  on  some  trivial  matter. 
Again,  the  child  would  go  away  with  him  of 
course  without  making  an  outcry,  which  he  would 
probably  not  have  done,  with  a  stranger.  There 


308  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

are  other  reasons.  He  no  doubt  took  the  boy 
to  the  road,  and  handed  him  to  his  confederates, 
passing  in  another  car.  The  affair  occurred,  you 
will  remember,  in  a  little  frequented  part  of  the 
Bois. 

"The  subsequent  actions  of  Mary  Lanahan 
are  a  trifle  difficult  to  account  for;  but  I  suppose 
them  to  have  been  as  follows :  On  slowly  coming 
out  of  her  stupor,  and  realizing  that  the  boy 
was  gone,  she  was  terribly  frightened.  It  had 
seemed  to  her  but  a  moment  since  she  turned 
away.  She  fears  that  the  cigarette  has  made  her 
drowsy — she  has  heard  that  they  sometimes  con 
tain  opium.  She  thinks  she  may  have  dozed  off ; 
but  is  not  willing  to  admit  it.  Especially  does 
she  not  want  her  employers  to  know  that  she  uses 
cigarettes.  She  fears  that  such  knowledge  would 
cost  her  her  place.  It  is  not  until  later  that  she 
begins  to  suspect  the  cigarettes." 

"When  is  that?"  inquired  Lefevre. 

"Several  days  later,  when  she  is  supposed  to 
have  been  poisoned.  She  was  with  Valentin  at 
the  time;  although,  on  account  of  Mr.  Stapleton's 
dislike  for  him,  she  feared  to  admit  it.  She 
smokes  another  of  the  cigarettes,  while  sitting  on 
a  bench  with  him,  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  Sud- 


THE   BLUE  LIGHTS  309 

denly  she  is  taken  ill — a  frequent  result  of  hash 
ish,  when  taken  in  excessive  doses,  or  by  one 
otherwise  nervously  upset.  Valentin  takes  the 
box,  puts  her  into  a  cab,  and  goes  to  his  room, 
where  he  leaves  the  cigarettes.  No  doubt,  as  she 
begins  to  feel  ill,  she  discusses  with  him'  the  pos 
sibility  of  the  cigarettes  having  been  poisoned.  It 
is  for  that  reason  that  she  gives  them  to  him. 

"Her  sudden  message  to  Valentin  to  destroy 
them  arose  from  a  fear  that  I  would  discover 
the  part  which  they  had  played  in  the  boy's  loss. 
This  would,  she  knew,  not  only  cost  her  her  place, 
but  would  make  her,  in  a  way,  responsible  for  the 
entire  affair.  She  feared  Mr.  Stapleton's  wrath, 
and  therefore  both  she  and  Valentin  remained 
dumb,  so  far  as  the  cigarettes  were  concerned. 

"They  both,  however,  were  all  this  time  doing 
their  best  to  find  the  child.  Her  message  to  Val 
entin,  that  she  was  suspicious  of  Francois,  telling 
Valentin  to  watch  him,  arose  no  doubt  from  a 
realization  that  the  box  of  drugged  cigarettes 
had  been  substituted  for  her  own  by  the  chauf 


feur. 


"Valentin,  acting  on  her  advice,  does  watch 
Francois,  as  his  presence  clinging  to  the  rear  of 
the  latter's  car  the  other  night  has  proved.  He 


310  THE   BLUE   LIGHTS 

tells  me,  today,  that  Frangois  did  not  take  his 
car  to  the  garage  that  night  at  all.  The  men 
there  who  so  testified  lied,  at  his  request,  suppos 
ing  it  merely  an  excuse  to  cover  a  joy  ride. 

"Francois,  not  wishing  that  the  drugged  cigar 
ettes  should  remain  in  the  nurse's  hands  as  evi 
dence  against  him,  evidently  made  an  attempt  to 
recover  them,  discovered  that  she  had  turned 
them  over  to  Valentin,  and,  being  watched  him 
self,  sent  word  of  the  matter  to  his  confederate, 
the  fellow  who  went  about  in  the  black  beard.  He 
must  have  been  admitted  to  Mr.  Stapleton's  house 
that  night  by  Francois  himself. 

"I  came  to  the  conclusion,  early  in  the  course 
of  my  investigations,  that  the  cigarette,  the  end 
of  which  I  had  found  in  the  Bois,  had  been 
smoked  by  Mary  Lanahan,  and  I  so  told  Mr. 
Stapleton." 

The  banker  nodded.  "Yes,"  he  said;  "but 
you  did  not  then  say  anything  about  the  hashish." 

"I  was  not  certain  of  it.  I  intended  to  have? 
the  fragment  I  had  found  analyzed.  When  I 
discovered  the  cigarettes  in  Francois'  room,  you 
will  remember  that  I  took  one  of  them.  I  smoked 
that  cigarette,  before  going  to  bed  that  night. 
It  produced  exactly  the  sensations  that  Mary  Lan- 


THE  BLUE  LIGHTS  311 

ahan  must  have  felt.  I  floated  away  in  the  land 
of  dreams  for  over  half  an  hour,  and  came  to 
with  no  recollection  whatever  of  the  passage  of 
time.  It  is  a  remarkable  drug,  but  an  extremely 
dangerous  one. 

"After  that,  the  case  became  simple  enough.  I 
knew  at  once,  beyond  any  question,  that  Francois 
was  one  of  the  kidnappers.  My  plans  last  night 
would  have  worked  perfectly,  but  for  the  chauf 
feur's  accidental  discovery  of  me,  hiding  in  the 
closet.  Had  that  not  happened,  the  boy  would 
have  been  returned,  according  to  program,  and 
Francois  I  had  safely  in  my  hands." 

"But  we  wouldn't  have  got  the  others,"  laughed 
the  Prefect.  "You  must  thank  your  wife  for  that. 
Vernet  has  told  me  how  the  kidnappers  outwitted 
you  at  the  Avenue  Malakoff.  The  car  from  which 
the  signal  apparently  was  made  contained  a  well 
known  stockbroker,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
matter  at  all.  He  merely  happened  to  be  passing 
the  Avenue  Malakoff  at  the  precise  moment  when 
the  signal  wras  given  to  Frangois." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Monsieur,"  observed  the 
detective,  quietly.  "The  signal  was  undoubtedly 
made  from  that  car;  not  by  Monsieur  Lemaitre, 
I  will  admit,  but  by  his  chauffeur.  He  has  ad- 


312  THE  BLUE   LIGHTS 

mitted  to  Vernet  that  a  stranger  paid  him  fifty 
francs  to  do  so,  on  the  plea  that  it  was  some  signal 
to  a  woman.  The  man  knows  nothing  of  the 
affair,  beyond  that." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  there  was  a  ripple  of 
laughter  from  the  hall,  and  Mrs.  Stapleton, 
Madame  Lefevre,  and  Grace  came  in. 

"We  have  been  debating  a  most  important  ques 
tion,"  said  Mrs.  Stapleton,  with  an  assumption  of 
extreme  gravity,  "and  we  beg  that  you,  Monsieur 
Lefevre,  will  be  so  good  as  to  decide  it." 

"What  is  this  question  so  grave,  Madame,"  in 
quired  the  Prefect,  rising,  with  a  smile.  "I  am  all 
impatience  to  hear  it." 

"The  question  is  this,  Monsieur  Lefevre: 
Which  deserves  the  greater  credit  for  the  re 
covery  of  my  boy — Mr.  Duvall,  or  his  charming 
wife?" 

The  Prefect  stepped  forward,  placed  one  hand 
affectionately  upon  Duvall's  shoulder,  and  with 
the  other  grasped  Grace  by  the  arm. 

"The  question  you  propound,  Madame,"  he 
said,  looking  from  the  detective  to  his  wife  with 
a  smile,  "is  easily  answered.  The  credit  belongs 
equally  to  both.  And  that,  my  children,  is  as  it 
should  be.  This  affair,  so  happily  terminated, 


THE  BLUE   LIGHTS  313 

has  taught  me  one  Important  lesson.  It  is  this: 
The  husband  and  the  wife  should  never  be  in 
opposition  to  each  other.  They  must  work 
together  always,  not  only  in  matters  of  this 
sort,  but  in  all  the  affairs  of  life.  I  attempted  a 
risky  experiment  in  allowing  these  two  dear 
friends  of  mine  to  attack  this  case  from  opposite 
sides.  But  for  some  very  excellent  strokes  of 
luck,  it  might  have  resulted  most  unhappily  for  all 
concerned.  Hereafter,  should  Monsieur  Duvall 
and  his  wife  serve  me,  it  must  be  together,  or  not 
at  all."  He  turned  to  Grace.  "I  feel  that  I 
owe  you  both  a  great  debt,  my  child,  for  having 
once  again  so  rudely  interrupted  the  course  of 
your  honeymoon.  What  reparation  can  I  make? 
Ask  of  me  what  you  will." 

"Anything?"  inquired  Grace,  laughing. 

"Anything."     The  Prefect  bowed  gallantly. 

"Then  I  demand  your  promise,  Monsieur,  to 
visit  us  at  our  place  in  Maryland,  before  the  end 
of  the  year." 

"That,"  exclaimed  the  Prefect,  as  he  bent  and 
kissed  her  hand,  "would  be  the  most  delightful 
way  of  paying  a  debt  that  I  could  possibly 
imagine." 


STORIES   OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 

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THE  HARVESTER 
Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  draws' 
his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
_Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  with 
his  sure  grip  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knowledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  tf  him  —  there  begins  a  romance, 
trouoled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  iha  rarest  idyllic  quality. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

^  Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
Which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
Story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMEERLOST. 
Illustrated  by  TYladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage.  - 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  by 
•  ialph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificing  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathcs 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

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DRAMATIZED    NOVELS 

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WITHIN  THE  LAW.     By  Bayard  Veiller  &  Marvin  Dana. 
Illustrated  by  Wm.  Cliarles  Cooke. 

This  is  a  novelization  of  the  immensely  successful  play  which  ran 
for  two  years  in  New  York  and  Chicago. 

The  plot  of  this  powerful  novel  is  of  a  young  woman's  revenge 
directed  against  her  employer  who  allowed  her  to  be  sent  to  prison 
for  three  years  on  a  charge  of  theft,  of  which  she  was  innocent. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARY.     By  Robert  Carlton  Brown. 
illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

This  is  a  narrative  of  a  young  and  innocent  country  girl  who  is 
suddenly  thrown  into  the  very  heart  of  New  York,  "tha  land  of  her 
dreams,  where  she  is  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  temptations  and  dangers. 

The  story  of  Mary  is  being  told  in  moving  pictures  and  played  in 
theatres  all  over  the  world. 

THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM.      By  David  Belasco. 
Illustrated  by  John  K.ae, 

This  is  a  norelization  of  the  popular  play  in  which  David  War, 
field,  as  Old  Peter  Grimm,  scored  such  a  remarkable  success. 

The  story  is  spectacular   and  extremely   pathetic  but  withal, 
powerful,  both  as  a  book  and  as  a  play. 
THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens.; 

This  novel  is  an  intense,  glowing  epic  of  the  great  desert,  sunlit 
barbaric,  with  its  marvelous  atmosphere  of  vastness  and  loneliness, 

It  is  a  book  of  rapturous  beauty,  vivid  in  word  painting.    The  play 
has  been  staged  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 
BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    By  General  Lew  Wallace. 

The  whole  world  has  placed  this  famous  Religious-Historical  Ro 
mance  on  a  height  of  pre-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  time 
has  reached.  The  clashing  of  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierce 
atmosphere  of  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination.  A  tre 
mendous  dramatic  success. 

BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.     By  George  Broadhurst  and  Arthur 
Hornblow.          Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

A  stupendous  arraignment  of  modern  marriage  which  has  created 
an  interest  on  the  stage  that  is  almost  unparalleled.  The  scenes  are  laid 
in  New  York,  and  deal  with  conditions  among  both  the  rich  and  poor. 

Tha  interest  of  the  story  turns  on  the  day-by-day  developments 
which  show  the  young  wife  the  price  she  has  paid. 

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